"Oh, Miss Jenkins," Jane cried, "do be careful! They might ask you to
bow down before one of those heathen idols, and maybe they might make
you offer at its feet a stick of something smelly in one of those insect
burners."
For the first time since I had known Page Hanaford, he shouted with
laughter. "Sweet aroma of incense, that's a blow for you!" he said.
"Come to think of it, I believe I'll happen along and see how it's
done."
X