He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. . It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. She admitted her pleasure to Ramage. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation.
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