Do sit down, dear boy. 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. The beach: to get there as quickly as he could, to reach the white man's nadir of abasement and gather the promise of that soothing indifference which comes with the final disintegration of the fibres of conscience. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. "Bah!" cried Jack, contemptuously; "nobody's disgraced and ruined unless he's found out. Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. Goodbye.
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