I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. Anna, why will you persist in this single-handed combat with life?” “Don’t!” she cried. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon. That old world that had shoved up that silly old hotel, and all the rest of it. Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. 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.
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