" O'Higgins produced his wallet. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. 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. Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. But here the resemblance stopped. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. His lips were tight drawn.
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