She continued to fan herself. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. I felt somehow I’d hurt you. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. He looked distant, irritated. ‘You’re only making things worse, you little idiot.
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