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“Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. " "A Chinaman.
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