She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. “My dear friend,” she laughed, “not so tragic, if you please. The first peg was torture. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. And yet he knew that his skill was equal to that of any fashionable practitioner in Hong-Kong. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me. He watched her, savoring her curious attention.
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