There were women of the cattle camps, and swarthy cigarette-smoking women of Old Mexico.

These, in turn, were crowded out by Japanese women, doll-like, stepping mincingly on wooden clogs; by Eurasians, delicate featured, stamped with degeneracy; by full-bodied South-Sea-Island women, flower-crowned and brown-skinned.

All these were blotted out by a grotesque and terrible nightmare brood--frowsy, shuffling creatures from the pavements of Whitechapel, gin-bloated hags of the stews, and all the vast hell's following of harpies, vile-mouthed and filthy, that under the guise of monstrous female form prey upon sailors, the scrapings of the ports, the scum and slime of the human pit.
"Won't you sit down, Mr.Eden ?" the girl was saying.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you ever since Arthur told us.

It was brave of you--" He waved his hand deprecatingly and muttered that it was nothing at all, what he had done, and that any fellow would have done it.