Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. You'd be coming up to Hong-Kong, but you'd be cutting out Canton. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it. I’m the sort of dog, if you turn it out of the room it lies down on the mat at the door.
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