“I have spoken too many truths to-night. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. ‘How much does he know?’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned narrowed eyes on Gerald. The inn was a military haunt. You’ve got to adjust yourself to the people God has set about you. I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time.
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