He admitted that it would bore him to dally here in Canton, with the pleasures of Hong-Kong so close. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. She crept into the living room and turned off the set, adjusting Cathy’s blanket which had fallen to the carpeted floor.
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