Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. “But you must forgive me, John. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired.
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