What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. ” “I could have said more. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. Well, I'll have a look-see at this young De Maupassant.
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