Stanley lost patience. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. She glimpsed Chinese penury when she entered a square given over to the fishmongers. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. ‘Again you seek to interfere in my affairs?’ ‘I did warn you I had every intention of doing so,’ said Gerald. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. I am going to make a fresh start. She’s already spoken for. Wood mentions?" inquired Jackson, as soon as the clatter that succeeded Mr. Mrs.
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