With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. You say you have twenty-four hundred in your letter of credit. But she had spent nearly half of it, and had no conception of how such a sum could be made good again. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair.
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