Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. Sailors would leave them at the trader's. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. The South China will be dropping to a dead calm, and I want to use canvas as much as I can. She pulled the trigger.
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