"The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok,—Thames Darrell, is returned. ” Drummond shook his head in melancholy fashion. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. Pearls in the dawn light, flashing and burning! "You don't like your island?" "I hate it!… But, there!"—weariness edging in. . We men are like children.
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