The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. “That he should be in the same world with me!” said Ann Veronica, reduced to reading the list of good things the British Tea-Table Company had priced for its patrons. So far she had the utmost difficulty in getting on to that vitally important matter. Daughters were in the air that day. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. .
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