So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. ‘Was you following, too, miss?’ ‘Certainly I was following. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival.
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