Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. One of his converted Kanakas dropped in one day. " "Right," answered Ireton. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. Nor Jacques. After all, life had still its pulsations. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs.
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