CHAPTER I. She roves the blue fields of the North, with the clean North Wind on her lips and her blonde head jewelled with frost— mocking valour and hardihood! Out of the West she comes, riding the great ships and the endless steel ways that encompass the earth, and smoke comes with her and the glare of furnace fires—commerce! From the East she brings strange words upon her tongue and strange raiment upon her shoulders and the perfume of myrrh—antiquity! But oh! when she springs from the South, her rosy feet trailing the lotus, ripe lequats wreathing her head, in one hand the bright torch of danger and in the other the golden apples of love, with her eyes full of sapphires and her mouth full of pearls! "With her eyes full of sapphires and her mouth full of pearls. You MUST not, you SHALL not go. The barometer says nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel" that out yonder there's a big blow moving. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them. Yes—as he would have liked.
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