And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. "We shall see. I’ve had it, Sheila. Ah Coom. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy. 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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