The first circumstance that struck her on her arrival seemed ominous. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. 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. He admitted that it would bore him to dally here in Canton, with the pleasures of Hong-Kong so close. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Her pa was only the smithy. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by.
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