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Updated: May 31, 2025
Old Dubois knows her pedigree. Her grandmother was a mulatto, over Penang way. She knew how Stires felt on the subject a damn, dirty ship-chandler no self-respecting officer deals with " "None of that!" I said sharply. "He's a good man, Stires. A darned sight too good for the Naapu grafters.
So much for French Eva who was by no means so important in the Naapu scheme of things as my long description may imply. She had her eminently respectable, her perfectly recognized niche, and we all bought eggs and fish of her when we could. She was a curious figure, to be sure; but you must remember that on Naapu every one, nearly, was unaverage, if not abnormal.
But no one held out very long against any one on Naapu. Schneider was drunk before he ever got to Lockerbie's that night. It was part of the Naapu ritual not to drink just before you reached your host's house, and that ritual, it soon became evident, Schneider had not observed. I saw Lockerbie scowl, and Follet wince, and some of the others stare.
I had heard of the lady before I ever saw her, and had wondered why Naapu chose to distinguish a female fish-vender even if she had begun with old Dubois. As soon as I clapped eyes on her, I perceived her distinction, her "difference" the reason for the frequent "Mam'selle." She was, at first glimpse, unusual. To begin with, never was so white a face matched with hair and brows and eyes so black.
And because Follet and I were both in what Naapu would have called its best circles, I never talked about Follet, though I liked him no better than Stires did. I say it began with Stires; but it began really with Schneider, introduced by Stires into our leisurely conversation.
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