had any real existence.

"Do you like it?" asked Moran quickly, facing him, her thumbs in
her belt.

"It's good fun--how about you?"

"It's no different than the only life I've known. I suppose you
think it s a queer kind of life for a girl. I've lived by doing
things, not by thinking things, or reading about what other people
have done or thought; and I guess it's what you do that counts,
rather than what you think or read about. Where's that pinch-bar?
We'll get a couple more abalones for supper, and then put off."

That was the only talk of moment they had during the afternoon.
All the rest of their conversation had been of those things that
immediately occupied their attention.

They regained the schooner toward five o'clock, to find the
Chinamen perplexed and mystified. No explanation was forthcoming,
and Charlie gave them supper in preoccupied silence. As they were
eating the abalones, which Moran had fried in batter, Charlie
said:

"Shark all gone! No more catch um--him all gone."

"Gone--why?"

"No savvy," said Charlie. "No likee, no likee. China boy tink um
heap funny, too much heap funny."