No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. Everyone has gone away again, so that I can do so all alone. ‘Go then. " So she told him the adventure of the two beachcombers in the typhoon, and how they became regenerated by their magnificent courage. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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