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" "Wretch!" cried Mrs. “But I am at singing-pitch. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. “Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison.
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