She found herself wondering whether they meant to settle the question of ownership then and there, before she could so much as set her foot upon the coveted soil at the end of the pier.

A hundred knives might hack her to pieces, but even as she shuddered a rush of true British doggedness warmed her blood; after all, she was there to fight for her rights and she would stand her ground.

Almost before she realised, the dominant air of superiority which characterises her nation, no matter whither its subjects may roam, crept out above her brief touch of timidity, and she found that she could stare defiantly into the swarthy ranks.
"Is there no British agent here ?" she demanded imperatively, perhaps a little more shrilly than usual.
No one deigned to answer; glances of indifference, even scorn, passed among the silent lookers-on, but that was all.

It was more than her pride could endure.

Her smooth cheeks turned a deeper pink and her blue eyes flashed.
"Does no one here understand the English language ?" she demanded.