Character: Emily Brent

- All of us hunting. If the island is someone else, I'll find him and make his twenty-second victim. Put it right between the eyes bullet.
How can you say that? So easily?!
- I open my mouth and words come pouring.

- You horrible person! Men like you have been at risk of our missionaries!
- Oh, these are your missionaries with their God and syphilis! I was not the only white murderer in Africa, miss Brent.

I hate this custom of leaving the men to smoke cigars and tell stories.
- Miss Clayton, traditions hold us together in the face of impending chaos.

I hate this custom of leaving the men to smoke cigars and tell stories.
- Miss Clayton, traditions hold us together in the face of impending chaos.

- Her own shamelessness, her sin is what prompted her to suicide. If she had behaved like a decent girl, nothing like this would happen.
She turned to Faith. In her eyes there was no trace of remorse: they strictly looked at Faith with a consciousness of his innocence. Emily Brent sat on the summit of Negro island, clad in the armor of self-righteousness. Frail old maid no longer seemed funny to the Faith. It seemed to her terrible.