“Why, I do not know. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. 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. The sing-song girls in Hong-Kong are far handsomer. “Anna!” she repeated. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair.
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