Forthwith he presented his card.
The Reverend Henry Dolby had come to see China; for that purpose he had, with his wife and daughter, traversed land and sea to the extent of ten thousand miles.

Actually, he had come all this distance simply to fulfil a certain clause in his contract with Fate, to be in Canton on this particular day.
Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, he heard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys of pidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant.

This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open.
The doctor jumped to his feet.

"Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast ?" McClintock demanded to know.
"Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room.

"Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast." "Aw light!" The two old friends held each other off at arms' length for inspection; this proving satisfactory, they began to prod and pummel one another affectionately.