“Really,” she said. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. There were all varieties of bird-life known in these latitudes, from the bird of paradise down to the tiny scarlet-beaked love-birds. Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. . For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral.
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