“Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. “Why could you not confide in us?” “Do what?” said Ann Veronica. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. “NOW!” said Ann Veronica. No pistols, no daggers today?’ ‘Would you have me show a pistol with so many soldiers? I am not a fool.
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