“Yes. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. Never before had any human being kissed her lips. I’m a hard young woman. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage.
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