"Never heard of a sing-song girl; never heard of a geisha! Flower of the Lotus: the sing-song girl called her that. ” “We might even have—given it up for them!” “I wonder if we could. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. But this was important. Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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