‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. Why, Nab, you shake as if you'd got an ague?" he added, turning to the Jew, whose teeth chattered audibly. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr.
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