He had rambled through the streets; now he was headed for the Ivilei district.

Instinct brought him there, the still, small voice which had guided him from trouble to trouble all his life.
At a corner he stopped to watch a group of Kanakas who passed him, wreathed with leis and thrumming their ukuleles.

They sang in their soft, many-voweled language and the sound was to Harrigan like the rush and lapse of water on a beach, infinitely soothing and as lazy as the atmosphere of Honolulu.

All things are subdued in the strange city where East and West meet in the middle of the Pacific.

The gayest crowds cannot quite disturb the brooding peace which is like the promise of sleep and rest at sunset.