Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. She felt sickeningly empty. The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. “Come in. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. ” “I’ll wait, then. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. ” “I am convinced of it,” she answered.
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