No
one near by had a claim on his veneration or his obedience. He had been
for years a labouring restless vagabond. His only tie in the world
was the Alfuro woman, in exchange for whom he had given away some
considerable part of his hard-earned substance; and his duty, in reason,
could be to no one but himself.
The scuffle behind the curtain was a thing of bad augury for that Number
One for whom the Chinaman had neither love nor dislike. He had been awed
enough by that development to hang back with the coffee-pot till at last
the white man was induced to call him in. Wang went in with curiosity.
Certainly, the white woman looked as if she had been wrestling with
a spirit which had managed to tear half her blood out of her before
letting her go. As to the man, Wang had long looked upon him as being in
some sort bewitched; and now he was doomed. He heard their voices in
the room. Heyst was urging the girl to go and lie down again. He was
extremely concerned. She had eaten nothing.
"The best thing for you. You really must!"
She sat listless, shaking her head from time to time negatively, as if
nothing could be any good. But he insisted; she saw the beginning of
wonder in his eyes, and suddenly gave way.
"Perhaps I had better."
She did not want to arouse his wonder, which would lead him straight to
suspicion.
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