She obeyed, extending her arm. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. “So very clear and cold,” she said. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. ‘Well, young man,’ he said, ‘we haven’t seen you lately,’ and something about ‘Bateson & Co. The prisoner breathed with difficulty. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting.
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