"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. I'll forgive him if he does. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. He was beautiful despite the odd angle. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. ’ He added, as alarm spread over the lad’s face, ‘Don’t concern yourself. I followed, taking up hunting so that way I could track you, to make sure you would become well again. ***** In the daytime the streets of the ancient city of Canton are yet filled with the original confusion—human beings in quest of food.
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