CHAPTER IV The tourists returned to the Sha-mien at four o'clock. Brown or Jones, I dare say. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible. Vee’s all right.
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