Herr Krauss, for his part, had received a surprise of a far more agreeable nature, being entirely unprepared to welcome such a pretty, fashionable young lady, in the character of his wife’s niece. Flora had invariably spoken of her relatives as “ugly, dowdy little things”; but then, she had only known them at the awkward age and, being herself remarkably handsome, was super-critical with regard to beauty. “Now come along and show me your luggage,” urged Herr Krauss, releasing his new acquaintance, “and I will see about it. The hand gepäck can go in the car.” With a sense of dazed bewilderment, Sophy took a hasty leave of her friends and prepared to follow her leader. As she kept close behind him, whilst he forced his way through the crowd, she noticed his short, thick neck, and powerful, aggressive shoulders—she also noticed that he allowed her to carry all her parcels herself. When at last they reached the car, he stepped in with surprising agility and said as he seated himself: “Now come along, put your things, umbrellas, wraps and parcels here. My man,” nodding towards a native, “will look after the heavy baggage. Better stick your dressing-bag in front, as there is not much room. I take up two shares—ha! ha!” This remark was painfully true. His burly form occupied most of the back seat, and Sophy with difficulty squeezed herself in beside him. As they glided slowly away, through the dense throng, she looked about her—her curiosity as raw and eager as that of Shafto. “What a wonderful, busy place!” she exclaimed. “I see you have telephones and trams in all directions.” “Oh, trams!” Krauss echoed contemptuously. “We have _everything_ in Rangoon; great shops and offices, public buildings, a cathedral, a mosque, theatres, clubs, sawmills, rice mills, banks—oh yes, it’s a fine place, and so rich,” and he smacked his lips as he added, “Burma is the land of opportunity.” “How is my aunt?” inquired Sophy. “Only middling—she will be glad to see you, and I expect you will do her good. We live a long way out—in Kokine, where Germans herd together, and I take this chance of a talk. I am a busy man—particularly of late; and time with me means _money_, so I’ll tell you what I have to say in as few words as possible.” Sophy nodded her head in agreeable assent. “Some years ago my wife met with a bad accident—a fall, out paper-chasing. It did not seem much at the time, though she lost her nerve; but it came against her later. During the last two or three years her health has broken down; she suffers from chronic neuralgia in head and spine, and for days she lies like a dead woman.” “Oh, poor Aunt Flora, how very sad!”