When he finally telegraphed his startling information to Hong-Kong, it was too late for O'Higgins to act. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. Valade accorded the major’s greeting a brief nod and gave his attention back to St Erme.
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