Probably he taught me what a joke was merely to irritate my father; for suddenly Father stopped my going to the store for things and sent our old Kanaka cook instead. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. “Rummy lot we are!” said Roddy. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny.
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