A sacrifice. She drank her glass of wine, however, and clanked glasses good-naturedly with Mr. ” “You don’t. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. ” He signed his name and reflected. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness.
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