Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. I think too much about myself. Be frank, I beg you, Miss Pellissier. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. I love you all the more for the streak of sheer devil in you. There are cigarettes and magazines in the corner there. But they were too late. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. ” She leaned against the back wall of the place, sinking slowly. Well, it had to happen somewhen.
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