But here she met with a check. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. ” She replied. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. ‘You did not find Gosse, that is seen, but—’ ‘Gosse? Gosse? Who’s this here Gosse then?’ ‘He is the Frenchman of whom I told you. To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. He saw the girl, and sprang up in bed. " There was a brief, breathless pause. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact. See what crime does, Sir.
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