CHAPTER V. What might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly. Why did he care? “I could never marry a girl who’s not a virgin. . She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb.
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