It was his purpose to complete four or five stories before he sent any away. . . His face was white. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. She leaned back as he climbed on top of her and kissed her mouth again. Her defence ceased rapidly to be in any sense ladylike, and became vigorous and effective; a strand of black hair that had escaped its hairpins came athwart Ramage’s eyes, and then the knuckles of a small but very hardly clinched fist had thrust itself with extreme effectiveness and painfulness under his jawbone and ear. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy.
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