The stranger produced a match, and lighted a cigar, saying, as he did so, “Decentish kind o’ wench you’ve got round there, stranger.”

I casually let this information drop as our concierge drives us through the resort in a buggy, a frangipani flower tucked behind his ear. He promises to fix the bug problem and drops us off at the lobby.

The dining compartment was very peach.

Each and every one started to give vent to its own particular voice—from the deep bass of one of the larger ones, whose human upper part and goaten extremities were dead black, to an evil kind of reedy chuckle that came from one of the nameless brutes — […]