So long as she could remember, her father had never permitted her to sit at the table unless she came fully dressed. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. The doctor and Anna were left alone. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie.
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