If there was a Yankee bar-keep in HongKong, James Boyle would soon locate him. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. —I do not congratulate you on your success. Better get a dress. Gave me a purse, and told me to take both of ’em up to Harwich and put them on a packet for Holland. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery.
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