“MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. He turned and shouted some orders to the Kanaka crew, then nodded to the sampan's coolies, who bore upon the sweeps and headed for the Sha-mien. I suppose I believe in God. Presently he resumed: “I believe I must be in love. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy.
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