Ralph Stock, South of the Line — The Spell (1922)
“ For all his six feet of good-looking, powerfully built manhood, backed by an income that would have been the ruination of most men, he was a child—pleasure-loving, irresponsible, simple of soul. But to return to the absurd wreath of flowers. It was made of crimson drala blossoms and thrown to him from one of the canoes that swarmed round the schooner like a flock of sea birds. Fenner was standing at the rail, and when he slipped the wreath over his head, and stood there like a six-foot, twentieth-century Dryad, a great shout went up. ”
