\"What did you do?\" Mike asked. Her voice recalled him. The heroism of two beach combers had saved all on board and their own manhood as well. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. The quiet encounter and home-coming Ann Veronica and she had contemplated was entirely disorganized by this misadventure; there were no adequate explanations, and after they had settled things at Ann Veronica’s lodgings, they reached home in the early afternoon estranged and depressed, with headaches and the trumpet voice of the indomitable Kitty Brett still ringing in their ears. She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. God must love me, for he has guided me here.
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