" "What happened?" Ah Cum recounted the story of the sing-song girl. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. You seemed complete—without that. The spinsters had purchased one grass-linen tablecloth; the girl and the young man had purchased nothing. He took his social pleasures once a year in Hong-Kong, after Easter. ’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. Then a roar of hisses. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. The mode of destruction makes no difference. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment.
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