She was trying to bring her problems to a head, and her mind insisted upon being even more discursive and atmospheric than usual. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. Perhaps he had had money in the coat, back in Hong-Kong, and had been robbed without knowing it. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. I said I’d do anything. She could feel her face turning beet red. " "I know what is good," she replied. " "I'll tell you what.
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