Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. ’ ‘Bon,’ exclaimed Melusine, triumph soaring. ‘I doubt it. The South China will be dropping to a dead calm, and I want to use canvas as much as I can.
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