CHAPTER XXIII. As a sex you’re a little under-trained—in affairs. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic. Anna made things for her. He moved to one side, bowing and gesturing to the door. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river.
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