The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow. Lucy stole her last chance to observe Martin Chen, looking provocatively into his 257 eyes as the door was shut. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. His expression altered. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. The Oriental accepts my medicines kowtowing, and when my back is turned, chucks the stuff out of the window and burns joss-sticks.
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