The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. There isn’t. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. Besides, your remark is not in the least complimentary. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John. Lucy found that her former anonymity as well as her popularity in the school was completely reversed.
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