Mind you don't stir till supper's over. “But about last night. You left Hong-Kong at night, by way of the Pearl River, and arrived in Canton the next morning. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. A lucky escape. O'Higgins returned to town and made a night of it, nothing very wild, nothing very desperate. I—In fact, I dislike him extremely. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile.
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