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It would be very good to be Capes’ friend. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. Lucy stood in front of the piano. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. But we must not anticipate the course of events. She came to me in a dream. She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided. He had little money about him, and unless friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper.
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