She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Imitating the example of Mr. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. A slow anger burned in the man. Just as the clergyman approached the altar, she perceived a boy steal quickly into the church, and ensconce himself behind the woollen-draper, who, in order to carry on his amatory pursuits with greater convenience, and at the same time display his figure (of which he was not a little vain) to the utmost advantage, preferred a standing to a sitting posture. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Wood scarcely knew where he was. Like appendicitis.
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