The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “But perhaps I want to confess them. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster. But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. The commissionaire smiled. I've no doubt he's as honest as either of you.
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