Born on a South Sea island, she said. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her. A creeping numbness invaded her. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. They've paid for their lodging. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. "Don't harm him," said Jack, carelessly: "he dares not do it. On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted.
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