” 200 < 25 > MEETING MARTIN CHEN She tried out for the Lincoln High orchestra on a whim. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. ” There was a moment’s silence. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. Prior to the great adventure, her mirrors had been the still pools in the rocks after the ebb. “Nigel, don’t you understand. I am a resolute man, and hitherto when I have wanted a thing I have got it; but I have never yet wanted anything in my life as I have wanted you.
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