They took their places at a distant table. "Tell me, what did they call you?" "Well, the old Kanaka cook used to call me the Golden One, but the natives called me the Dawn Pearl. Wood was once a favourite of yours. ” “It’s a very good image,” said Ann Veronica. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. The subject matter was generally worthless, but the handling was well done. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him.
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