Funny codgers, aren't they?" he said. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. I believe I am doomed to be an old maid. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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