One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. "Would I had never seen either of you!" cried Jack, rising and pacing the apartment with a hurried step. Their colorful displays seemed to repel the dreariness of the sky as each group savored its long awaited moment, its weekend arrival in front of the opposite sex. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank.
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