“Great!” Cathy squealed. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. " "Then they were empty when he left," replied Ah Cum, with dignity. But this is not sufficient. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. . I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it.
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