He left her. She slipped her bare feet into mules and wrapped herself in a kimono. She looked in the glass; she was very pale and she put on some rouge. She stood at the door for a moment, nerving herself for the interview, and then with a bold face joined him.
“How did you manage to get away from the Laboratory at this hour?” she said. “I don’t often see you at this sort of time.”
“Won’t you sit down?”
He did not look at her. He spoke gravely. She was glad to do as he asked: her knees were a little shaky, and unable to continue in that jocular tone she kept silent. He sat also and lit a cigarette. His eyes wandered restlessly about the room. He seemed to have some difficulty in starting.
Suddenly he looked full at her; and because he had held his eyes so long averted, his direct gaze gave her such a fright that she smothered a cry.
“Have you ever heard of Mei-tan-fu?” he asked. “There’s been a good deal about it in the papers lately.”
She stared at him in astonishment. She hesitated.
“Is that the place where there’s cholera? Mr. Arbuthnot was talking about it last night.”
“There’s an epidemic. I believe it’s the worst they’ve had for years. There was a medical missionary there. He died of cholera three days ago. There’s a French convent there and of course there’s the Customs man. Every one else has got out.”
His eyes were still fixed on her and she could not lower hers. She tried to read his expression, but
