Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. "Kingfisher feathers," said Ah Cum. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. “But, forgive me, you are tired. Tears flowed in rivulets down 121 her cheeks and she began to cry. ‘It must seem strange to you at first. What of it?” There was a shout of laughter. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding.
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