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Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn, 1857-1948

"Sleeping Fires: a Novel"


On the little balcony, their chairs wedged between large vases of
growing plants, Madeleine could watch the function without attracting
attention; or lean over the railing and look down upon the narrow
street hung with gay paper lanterns above the open doors of shops
that flaunted the wares of the Orient under strange gilt signs. There
were many little balconies high above the street and they were as
brilliantly lit as for a festival. From several came the sound of
raucous instrumental music or that same thin chant as of lost souls
wandering in outer darkness. The street was thronged with Chinamen of
the lower caste in dark blue cotton smocks, pendent pigtails, and
round coolie hats.
It was eight o'clock, but it was Holt's "night off" and as he had
told her that morning he could get a pass for the dinner, and that it
was time she "changed her bill," she had risen early and met him at
her door.
It was apparent that she took a lively interest in this bit of
Shanghai but a step out of the Occident, for her face had lost its
heavy brooding and she asked him many questions. It was an hour
before Masters' name was mentioned, and then she said abruptly:
"You tell me much of his life out here and before he came, but you
hardly ever say anything about the present.


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