At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted. " "As for that, I don't say. "It is your son. They are tending to congregate, our poor French friends. Here was a thundering blow. Gerald’s temper flared. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. ‘Flirting, Gerald? A new come-out for you. In the beginning Ah Cum would run his glance speculatively over the assortment and select that individual who promised to be the most companionable.
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