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She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him. He made Hong-Kong at dusk: wet, hungry, and a bit groggy for the want of sleep; but he was in no wise discouraged. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. “Yes. Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre.
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