All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. Slowly a mirthless and very unpleasant smile dawned upon his face. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. Even this man-hunting machine was willing to grant the boy his honeymoon.
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