I cannot let you go. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. “Then—then we can talk things out. “I didn’t know you were so keen on this suffrage business. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. He was staring at her, openly gaping. We aren't between him and heaven; he is between us and heaven.
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