The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. "What are those odd-looking things on the roofs?" she asked of Ah Cum. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. He whispered in her ear. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. She would end alone. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. “Just remember, I have to make this up to you.
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