“You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. Regardless as the gentry of the Mint usually were (for, indeed, they had become habituated from their frequent occurrence to such scenes,) of any outrages committed in their streets; deaf, as they had been, to the recent scuffle before Mrs. ’ Martha got up with a swish of her black habit. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. Lord, but it was a nun! Just as he had suspected. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. She felt her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding her chest. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now.
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