The Night-Cellar XVIII. Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. "What is she saying to me?" Ah Cum shrugged. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. He remembered also, all at once, the very first words he had heard her speak: “I was not born to this. ” A flush of excitement crept into her cheeks. But they would not be denied. In his condition the boy apparently had been as safe as in the lock-up. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. And, in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high compliment. This was the worst summer that I ever had in my life, Europe and all, and I can’t tell you how many times I drove by that Violin Camp hoping to catch a look at you, praying that there wasn’t some horny violin guy waiting to ask you out.
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