She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs. "Go in, to be sure, simpleton," replied Mrs.
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