"All that you have been telling me, our old Kanaka cook summed up in a phrase. I need a white man, if only to talk to; and it will be a god send to talk to someone of your intelligence. ” “And you?” Annabel exclaimed. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. He’s out in Phoenix last I heard.
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