The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. He seemed to be thinking hard. “Poor old Alice!” Her brother Roddy came to her and demanded tea, and asked her to state a case. He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. Fire; she was full of it. “You can keep him at arm’s length. But I can easily bring in a sing-song girl to play for you. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out.
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