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CHAPTER VI. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. “For better or worse. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. The stoppage had materially lessened the distance between him and his pursuers, who now amounted to more than a hundred persons, many of whom carried lanterns and links. In addition to the various business men, solicitors, civil servants, and widow ladies who lived in the Morningside Park Avenue, there was a certain family of alien sympathies and artistic quality, the Widgetts, with which Ann Veronica had become very friendly. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later. I'll not speak of Jack or Jonathan. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller's view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. But it was her proof.
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