The sing-song girls in Hong-Kong are far handsomer. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. How old are you?’ ‘I have nineteen years, and it is quite unimportant. I’ve been waiting a long time for you. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued.
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