The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. “I wonder if I’ve been properly brought up. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. He turned back at once. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica.
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