One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. “To be an actress,” he said, “you require a special and peculiar temperament. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. Bird and have come hither. What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. “Anna!” she repeated. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'.
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