‘Poor Hilary. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. Look! Is that some one coming out?” The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps in the opposite direction. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding.
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