It was in fact the first embrace of motherhood she had ever known. It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. At once divining the meaning of this ingenious device, he applied his mouth to the tube, and sucked away, while the person outside poured spirit into the bowl. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said.
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