His voice became very soft. "You'll feel it," he added. "You'll feel it following you around—a man's love for you—mine. I win—to know what I know to-night. And when you find him—know that I drink his health. I could do that devoutly.... I have had your baggage taken to the boat. The launch will call here for you.... In a few minutes.... I think—I think you are not a woman at all—but an immortal! You see I cannot suffer thinking of you that way—"
"Romney—"
"Yes—"
"Romney—no one is watching. I would not care if they were—put your head a moment on my breast.... Ah, and now upon my knee ... dear boy ... Romney, I am blind. I almost hate to go. Don't let me stay, will you? ... Ah, kiss me—once ... lips ... ice cold ... once? It isn't true! It's just passion, Romney! I hate myself. Don't let me stay to-night ... once—"
They were standing. She had not spoken for long. The launch was waiting.
"I want something that you have on—something of yours," he managed to say steadily.
She unfastened her cloak, gave it to him to hold—took off the waist she wore—a bit of gold-rose chiffon that he could cover in his palm. Then she put on her cloak again.
He helped her into the launch. Her bowed head turned to him a moment, and she covered her eyes. The launch sputtered away.
Romney went back to the seat near the bamboo thicket. The scent of roses wavered past, and the music of the vina came in to him. Romney drank. Once he raised his head. It was her steamer passing down the river. Hours afterwards he was drinking there alone.... Toward morning Longstruth himself came and sat down, but the American did not speak. Neither was he drunk in the least.
PART ONE: THE GREAT DRIFT