“Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. "Hear! hear!" vociferated Quilt. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. " "Let me have a glass of brandy," said he, addressing the host. "Yes; I know I look it," said O'Higgins, amiably.
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