“Yes, an extremely pretty girl,” remarked old Dr. Feng, bending towards me and speaking softly across the _table-à-deux_ at which we were dining at the Kürhaus hotel at Mürren, high-up in the snow-clad Alps. “A honeymooning couple, no doubt,” he went on--“nice place this for a honeymoon!” and the white-haired old Chinese who--most unusual in one of his race, had a long white beard--smiled as he poured out a tiny glass of white curaçao, the only form of alcohol I ever saw him indulge in. I glanced across in the direction he indicated and saw seated in a corner, a pretty dark-haired grey-eyed girl of twenty. She wore a flame-colored dance-frock, and was laughing happily as she chatted with a …
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