"Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself. CHAPTER XIII. "To-night you shall be my wedded wife. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. That window there…. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones.
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