The odour of coconut prevailed, delicately but abidingly; for, save for the occasioned pleasure junket, The Tigress was a copra carrier, shell and fibre. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. How fortunate that she recognises the resemblance. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling.
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