‘I hope I do not understand you. But there was an abiding serpent in this Eden. How did you like Tristan?” Ann Veronica paused the fraction of a second before her reply came. Only au revoir. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her. 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 trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky.
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