But she was relentless. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. ‘She knows what she’s up against. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil.
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