CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. “Tut, tut!” he said. \" His brown eyes were tired and full of concern. To-morrow, when she returned to Hong-Kong, she would purchase a simple but modern dress. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. " "How so?" asked the other, distrustfully. From what do you wish to be rescued?’ The girl fluttered her eyelashes, sighed dramatically and spread her hands. “Thank you,” she said coolly.
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