The half-nude brown bodies of the crew informed Ah Cum that the schooner had come up from the South Seas. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. Wood. Courtlaw. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. She struggled not to be afraid. “Okay, I guess.
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