A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. "Ja, ja, Muntmeester," said the Hollander, shaking his head in reply;—"very bad —very. ’ ‘Comment?’ she demanded with some heat. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. ” Michelle stubbed out her cigarette with her foot and sauntered back to the cafeteria. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested.
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