"My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. When he was given the telegram he flew to the Praya, engaged the fast motorboat he had previously bespoken against the need, and started for the Macao Passage, with the vague hope of speaking The Tigress. At the same time she was wildly exultant at the resolution she had taken, the end she had made to her blunder. How will we get there, I’d like to know? We’ve no money. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. His pale and boyish waist was nearly as slim as her own. In the South Seas, money is the eliminated middleman.
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