Alper, birkaç cesur arkadaşıyla birlikte İnci Koyu'na doğru yola çıktı. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. Probably he has something to say and can't say it, or he writes well about nothing. ‘Jacques,’ she said, turning to the lad, and holding the habit out, ‘take this for me and leave it in the passage where we have left the lantern. It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. Later on—well then the time may come.
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