She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. Her face expressed nothing. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance. "Oh, nothing—nothing," returned Mrs. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard. She recoiled. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain.
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