Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. I’m that shamed to confess it, miss, but it were then I thought of Martha. See paragraph 1. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day.
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