He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. I shan't drive a hard bargain. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. 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. ‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane.
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