tulle illusion hanging from bonnets of rice straw and glazed crepe.
Palpably shocked by her Oriental face masked in paint, her Chinese
"heathen" origin, yet they fingered the amazing needlework and wondered
over the weight of her satins.

The men he knew gave him, for the most part, a curt greeting. They
glanced more covertly at his wife; he understood exactly what thoughts
brought out this condemnation soiled by private speculation; and his
disdain mounted at their sleek backs and glossy tile, hats supported on
stiffly bent arms.

After dinner he walked through the warm sunny emptiness of the afternoon
to Derby Wharf and the _Nautilus_. Standing on the wharf, smoking a
cheroot, he leaned back upon his cane, studying the ship with a gaze that
missed no detail. There was not a sound from the water; across the harbor
Peach's Point seemed about to dissolve in a faint green haze; a strong
scent of mingled spices came from the warehouses. There was the splash of
oars in the Basin beyond, and the more distant peal of a church bell.

At the sound of footfalls behind him he turned and saw Nettie Vollar and
her uncle, Edward Dunsack. A dark color rose in the girl's cheek, and her
hand pulled involuntarily at Dunsack's arm, as if she wished to retreat.
Gerrit thought that she had aged since he had latest met her: Nettie's
mouth, with its full, slightly drooping lower lip, had lost something of
its fresh arch; her eyes, though they still preserved their black
sparkle, were plainly resentful. Edward Dunsack, medium tall but thin
almost to emaciation, had a riven sallow face with close-cut silvery hair
and agate-brown eyes with contracted pupils.

"Well, Nettie," Gerrit said, moving forward promptly, "it's pleasant to