’ For my own part I go about loving. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. Pshaw!" added he, making an effort to subdue his emotion, "I can't leave you in this way. ’ The lady frowned suspiciously. I need a white man, if only to talk to; and it will be a god send to talk to someone of your intelligence. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy.
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