Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. She looked at him mournfully. ‘I know just what he was doing. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. You left Hong-Kong at night, by way of the Pearl River, and arrived in Canton the next morning. Her answer was not quite ready.
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