“You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. He opened the drawer of the writing table. Sudden indignation boiled up in him. You will find proofs of the bloody deed in his room. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. A crisis of some kind was toward. “You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley.
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