Alors, how did you get in?’ ‘Oh, we broke in,’ Gerald told her cheerfully. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. He was certain that those lips of hers had never known the natural and pardonable simper of youth. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her. Ennison reeled, and almost fell. Burn your palette and your easel. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. Nothing anyone could say or do would change him.
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