She was dropped off at 2:30 at Whitefield Park, a huge extravagantly lit field in the new part of town. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. Mr. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. 59 He was not present during the night the next morning, or the next, or the next. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane.
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