“Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. She is Bohemian to the fingertips. When he was given the telegram he flew to the Praya, engaged the fast motorboat he had previously bespoken against the need, and started for the Macao Passage, with the vague hope of speaking The Tigress. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. But come, sir. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back.
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