She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. Above she found the two Chinamen squatted at the side of the door. Supper was over. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent. And every day's experience proves that I was right.
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