But oh, how weary I am! I know. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. 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.
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