CHAPTER IV. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. "In Canton. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses. “I wonder!” said Miss Stanley. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. It hardly served his interests. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood.
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