I don’t want to stop your singing. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. “It is such a very respectable boarding-house,” she said. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. She kicked both of her legs with the force of a bull, sending a blow into Rhea’s borrowed legs. "I tell you what, Mr.
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