But again I held my
tongue, for who am I to argue with a knight?
Chapter LII
Tiare, when I told her this story, praised my prudence, and
for a few minutes we worked in silence, for we were shelling
peas. Then her eyes, always alert for the affairs of her
kitchen, fell on some action of the Chinese cook which aroused
her violent disapproval. She turned on him with a torrent of abuse.
The Chink was not backward to defend himself, and a
very lively quarrel ensued. They spoke in the native language,
of which I had learnt but half a dozen words, and it sounded
as though the world would shortly come to an end;
but presently peace was restored and Tiare gave the cook a
cigarette. They both smoked comfortably.
"Do you know, it was I who found him his wife?" said Tiare
suddenly, with a smile that spread all over her immense face.
"The cook?"
"No, Strickland."
"But he had one already."
"That is what he said, but I told him she was in England,
and England is at the other end of the world."
"True," I replied.
"He would come to Papeete every two or three months, when he
wanted paints or tobacco or money, and then he would wander
about like a lost dog.
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