230 Rhea sprang, teeth flashing. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. "Spring!—I never knew any. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. He turned and shouted some orders to the Kanaka crew, then nodded to the sampan's coolies, who bore upon the sweeps and headed for the Sha-mien. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it.
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