And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. “I have learned that. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth. ” He said. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. “No! I want to do without that. “Fine. That would come later. I shouldn't talk like that.
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