Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. The Tigress is second-hand, built for coast-trade. She knew his appetite from many a homemade dinner and knew also that he had taken Bitch Vorsack’s comments to heart. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. Once more he was the searcher.
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