"What is it?" "The night," she answered. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. So, here he was, on the last lap of middle age, in China, having missed all the thrills in life except one—the war against Death. I have always hated it. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. She held up the lamp. His face was white. I wonder what it was. ” There was a moment’s silence. ” “I can’t go back to the Beck’s ever again.
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