Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. To them all I am nothing. Sure Mike!" At the hotel he wrote a long letter to his chief, explaining every detail of the fizzle. "I wonder how she picked up Kanaka? On her island they don't talk Kanaka lingo. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. For a moment O'Higgins had hoped that the ink applications would be recent. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind.
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