Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. "Tell me the truth, I implore you," cried Thames. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. “Don’t you have a wife? Where are your children?” She asked. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. To her chagrin, he ignored her, and turned a venomous eye on his betrothed. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview.
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