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’ I said. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. . Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her.
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