‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable.
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