It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. Dump instantly complied, and as soon as Jack was removed from the sacred edifice, his person was searched from head to foot—but without success. Nobody can trust you. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. It was better even than the hymn-singing. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. There was something very wrong. The deafening report froze time. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said.
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