"But there's nothing more to see in Canton. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. ’ She grasped the girl’s arm. "Damnation!" cried Kneebone. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. Rummage, my boy, do. I worshipped her and subdued myself.
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