The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. This was his humiliation as well as hers. In seconds, they faced each other before the altar. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. Come. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture.
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