Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. She entered the last room, his bedroom. Yet she took with her an uneasy consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future trouble. It would send business elsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperous that one could afford to lose a single guest. But some people have no consideration. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. "I won't trouble you further, Jack," he remarked. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. “Where should we go?” Knowing that they would be dogged wherever they went, she volunteered, “Let’s go to the Big Apple. They are their mother’s sons. Come down, I say, instantly, or I'll make you. ’ ‘And where do you propose to go?’ enquired Gerald carefully.
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