She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. ” Capes lifted her hand and kissed it. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him.
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