The carte de jour was before Monsieur. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round. I want to talk to you, and I must return tomorrow. ” He cried traitorously. To return. I am an educated Chinese, and I resent the imputations against my race. He carried a small bag. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. Restraining with an effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, trying his best to entertain her. Then to Martin's brandy-shop, in Fleet Street.
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