He knew she had been weeping. Let—it—fall. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. “I wish I didn’t swear. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths.
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