“H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. I am an educated Chinese, and I resent the imputations against my race. Presently she saw Spurlock on the way to the lagoon. He brought home her first “meal”, a man who he 77 claimed was a highwayman who had raped several women and was destined for the hangman’s noose. After quarter of an hour, she followed. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. She wanted to live.
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