It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow.
Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served.

They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had.
"But she is a dear," said Angelina, timidly.
"I'll admit that.

But I don't understand her; she's over my head.
She leaves me almost without comparisons.

She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated.

That's the way she strikes me.