There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Contrasted with the confused movement and presences of a Fabian meeting, or the inexplicable enthusiasm behind the suffrage demand, with the speeches that were partly egotistical displays, partly artful manoeuvres, and partly incoherent cries for unsoundly formulated ends, compared with the comings and goings of audiences and supporters that were like the eddy-driven drift of paper in the street, this long, quiet, methodical chamber shone like a star seen through clouds. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill. Anna, with her marvellous capacity for enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an hour or so ago at an A. “Steady on!” he cried. His employer retreated into the further apartment, leaving the door ajar.
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