"Be it as you please," replied Winifred. She felt sickeningly empty. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away.
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