" Darrell's attention was drawn to the latter part of this speech by a slight pressure on his foot. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. She turned her head away sharply. It is really cheap, you know. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. One of the sampans was hailed, and a ropeladder was lowered. The Night-Cellar. You only mean a secret for a little time?” “Just for a little time,” she said; “yes. David Courtlaw.
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