’ ‘It’s no use blaming me, Gerald,’ uttered Roding, shrugging helplessly as his senior turned questioning eyes on him. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. The effects of the heroin wore off slowly. The latter gentleman did full justice to the good things before him; but he drank sparingly, and was visibly annoyed by his companion's intemperance. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. The latch came with a weak click. 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. And this though he was evidently passionately in love with her. “Never mind. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs.
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