“You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Nothing is wrong that you do. It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. ‘Don’t concern yourself, Hilary.
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