and sachets for toilet and boudoir. These odors of the hinano and
tiare were philters worthy of the beautiful Tahitian girls, with their
sinuous, golden bodies so sensualized, so passionate, and so free.

The ordinary life of the Tiare Hotel was all upon the broad verandas
which surrounded it, their high lattices covered with the climbing
bougainvillea and stephanotis vines, which formed a maze for the
filtering of the sunlight and the dimming of the activities of the
streets. On these verandas were the tables for eating, and in the
main bungalow a few bedrooms, with others in detached cottages within
the inclosure.

There was a parlor, and it was like the parlors of all ambitious
Europeans or Americans in all islands--a piano with an injured tone,
chairs blue and scarlet with plush covers that perspiring sitters
of years had made dark brown, a phonograph, and signed photographs
of friends and visitors who had said farewell to Tahiti. There were
paintings of flowers by Lovaina, showing not a little talent and much
feeling. All these were the pride of her birthright--"Murricaine"
fashion, as the hostess said pensively.

I have said that the life of the hotel was upon the veranda, and so
it was at meal-time and for the casual tourist staying a day with
a steamship to or from New Zealand or the United States; but to the
resident of Tahiti, the American, Britisher, or non-Latin European,
the place of interest in Papeete other than the clubs was a small
porch approached from the street by a few steps.

On this tiny porch was a large table, and behind it a couch. The table
was the only desk for letter-writing, the serving-stand for meals,