She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. Canton is all China at night. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. She glared at him with satisfaction. ’ He threw a fulminating glance at Gerald. “Let’s go in here.
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