'Mrs. “Not only that,” he answered. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder.
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