She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. CHAPTER IV The tourists returned to the Sha-mien at four o'clock. "He has heard of your wonderful escapes, and wishes to see what you're like. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. "It's a fine idea, my child, but you mustn't do it. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father.
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