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. It filled his thoughts for the rest of the day, and became an obsession. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. Ramage, and might describe the affair to him, she cried “Oh!” with renewed vexation, and repeated some steps of her dance in a new and more ecstatic measure. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. Always. Melusine flew after him, the sword held out before her and pointing directly at his retreating back. “I think, perhaps if you will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon. She would wake in the night to repeat her bitter cry: “Oh, why did I burn those notes?” It added greatly to the annoyance of the situation that she had twice seen Ramage in the Avenue since her return to the shelter of her father’s roof.
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