“Oh my!” cried the pretty half-caste, waking out of her trance. “Right against my stomach!”
They laughed and laughed. The table turned round fiercely and they rose from their chairs, with their hands on the table, and accompanied its angry, waltzing movements.
“Next ... year ...” the table rapped out.
Eldersma wrote it down.
“Frightful ... war.”
“Between whom?”
“Europe ... and ... China.”
“It sounds like a fairy-tale!” grinned the doctor.
“La-bu-wangi,” tapped the table.
“What about it?” they asked.