His first reaction had been explosive as the hurts of the past rose up to taunt him. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. This, then, must be the person whom he had seen spring upon the western platform at the time of the collision between the boats. There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. The slight smile that played upon Winifred's lips seemed to say that she was not quite so sure. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. "Well reminded," answered Rowland, who had witnessed his struggles with a smile of gratified vengeance; "I had forgotten the accursed imp in this confusion. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. "But she is saying something to me! What is it?" The hotel manager, who spoke Cantonese with facility, interpreted. For what could be more ironical than for Howard Spurlock to see himself grow famous under the name of Taber? The ambrosia of which he had so happily dreamt!—and this gall and wormwood! He stood up and rapped his pipe on the rail. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional.
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