Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. The doctor here says he can get you aboard to-morrow night. I’m sorry to hurt your feelings. Have you not tired of sadness and pain?” 81 She thought she could hear tears in his voice but would not look at him. He did everything. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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