Let me engage myself. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. "But he can't be far off. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. ” “Lady Ferringhall! Anna!” he exclaimed. ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. “Very much as usual,” said Ramage.
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