Jack did not advance to meet her. "Mine died while I was over here. Suddenly he burst into wild laughter; but equally as suddenly something strangled the sound in his throat. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. Innumerable little puzzles were instantly solved. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. She was powerless to move from her chair.
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