"Then we're imprisoned. I was stupid—stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon you in this way. 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 had consecrated my life to His Work; and I took the primrose path. It was everyone's favorite meal. “What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. I love your very breath.
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