Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. He had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. Never in this world! Let the hotel people take care of him; it's their affair. Spurlock knew that somewhere along the way he would write a story worth while. Such revelations she hoped would be considered out of place and inappropriate.
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