She grew attached to a pair of twins, a boy named Fritz and a girl named Anna, belonging to an auburn-haired Viennese prostitute named Clotilde. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. "A bad business this, Van," observed Baptist, with a prolonged shake of the head. She appeared to be considering. I had a hunch. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. I suppose I ought to have been a man.
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