Mrs. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. Parbleu, but what grandfathers I have!’ It was stalemate, Gerald thought, irrepressible amusement leaping into his chest. He made Hong-Kong at dusk: wet, hungry, and a bit groggy for the want of sleep; but he was in no wise discouraged. “I think, perhaps if you will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon. I’ve been thinking, you know—I’m not sure that primarily the perception of beauty isn’t just intensity of feeling free from pain; intensity of perception without any tissue destruction.
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