But she did not believe he would do that. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. Its importance had vanished with her abandonment of compromise. "Before you go, bring me the bottle of pineapple rum I opened yesterday. It was not a difficult affair. No, don’t interrupt me. For some time after he was locked up in this prison Jack continued in a very dejected state.
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