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. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. He looked half at her and half at the sky. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ‘Me, I have a name. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United States.
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