If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. She lied. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy.
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