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"Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. ” “Thank you, Jane. ***** In the daytime the streets of the ancient city of Canton are yet filled with the original confusion—human beings in quest of food. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes.
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