“Hullo!” Courtlaw, haggard, his deep-set eyes more brilliant than ever, took Anna’s hand into his, and breathed a little close drawn sigh of content. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. It did not seem quite fair. You know—I worship you.
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