For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. Spurling and Marvel rose too. The morning swims in the lagoon had thickened the red corpuscle. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds.
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