‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. He had seldom been more perturbed. She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed.
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