He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face. Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. I thought perhaps you were staying with them, as you did not seem particularly anxious to recognize your old friends. ‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. . Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. “I throw it out in passing,” he said. He stood before her. And it had not shocked her! It was this appalling absence of indignation that had put terror into her heart. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. “Experte credo.
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