The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. “You seem to forget that my sister is—married. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. The Supper at Mr. Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really.
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