She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. Ogilvy was full of a client’s trouble in that matter, a grave and even tragic trouble. Celestial Uncles! Spurlock chuckled, and a bit of chestnut, going down the wrong way, set him to coughing violently. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented.
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