I believe I am doomed to be an old maid. It doesn’t seem to matter. In Europe or in America people would have smiled; but in Singapore—the half-way port of the world—where a human kaleidoscope tumbles continuously east and west, no one had remarked her. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. Oh, John. Courtlaw for his true verdict, and he gave it me. At length, I shall ascertain my name. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. People were passing in the street below.
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