Ants. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. Anyhow, now you’ve begun it, there’s nothing to keep us in all this from being the best friends in the world. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. You seem altogether altered, too. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol.
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