The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. Nothing to check their proceedings but a declining habit of telling the truth and the limitations of their imaginations. If this idiotic marriage is binding then I will be her friend. I’m leaving you, and you can’t stop me. I will not be sent away. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. “Last time I saw you,” he reminded her, “you spoke, did you not, of obtaining some employment in London. For a moment, Kneebone had hesitated about giving the signal to Shotbolt, but, thinking a more favourable opportunity might occur, he determined not to hazard matters by undue precipitation.
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