He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. "Are you returning to Hong-Kong to-morrow by the day boat?" For a moment Ruth was astonished at the sound of the spinster's voice.
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