9. 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. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. I'll put you aboard The Tigress to-morrow after sundown. That is what my mother used to call me. Wood, severely, "and go to bed.
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