"What's this here kinchen in for?" asked Terence, as he and Quilt strode along, with Thames between them. When she reflected that Mr. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. Even now I do not understand. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague.
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