The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. I had no idea. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. For freedom at least. The lady, who was indeed stunning, Gerald suddenly realised, said never a word. "My sight is failing me. She was weeping now. I tried to get across the terrace and onto the bridge to introduce myself, but the crowds did not part and I lost you. I am apparently a beast, a pig and an imbecile, too, if memory serves me. . “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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