. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. I've told you about him; and you wrote a shrewd yarn on the subject. I'll lay my life he's gone. “But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. So, you see—’ ‘Do not say any more,’ Melusine uttered, flinging away and moving to the fireplace. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage.
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