‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. Smiling, the Chinaman gave the correct pronunciation. He talked very little and rather absently. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. I was compelled to run away. He got up brusquely.
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