“You, too,” he said abruptly. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. “Where is she?” He would yell even louder until she was sure that people in faraway fishing boats could probably hear him.
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