His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. He saw that she was tense. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. He took his social pleasures once a year in Hong-Kong, after Easter. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. What was to hinder me, if I had been so inclined, from directing them to your retreat?" "Enough," replied Darrell. " "Shall I tell you a real story?" "Something you have seen?" "Yes.
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