She had better escape if she can. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. It is like some accident. .
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