He jumped back, wrenching the sword away. Not a word passed between them. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. You know Martin, right? He’s that beautiful half-Chinese boy that skipped a grade and has an I.
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