From her cabin port-hole Anne could see a fringe of palms against the sky line, a little row of white houses peeping through heavy, green foliage, and a long white stretch of beach that glistened in the sunlight. It was Kaliti, a little island that she knew very well and had visited many times, for it was one of the Talimi group and hardly more than twenty miles from Talimi itself.
From forward she heard the rattle of the Alola’s steam winch, as the vessel prepared to drop anchor. It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon now. The Alola would stay here perhaps an hour to unload whatever freight she had for the little place, and then go on to Talimi. Talimi would be reached somewhere about half-past nine that evening—after dark.
Alola’sAlolaAnne’s face was very grave, and tears were not
