235 “No, I think she’s out sick with a throat infection. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. All right! I’m off. Has he given you the tools?" "He has," replied Bess, producing the handkerchief. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. ‘But lay him down. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. He admitted that it would bore him to dally here in Canton, with the pleasures of Hong-Kong so close.
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