n-skinned girls.

But we were out for amusement, so, after the table hospitality, Sam took
us into the Causeway. Out of the coloured darkness of Pennyfields came
the muffled wail of reed instruments, the heart-cry of the Orient; noise
of traffic; bits of honeyed talk. On every side were following feet: the
firm, clear step of the sailor; the loud, bullying boots of the tough;
the joyful steps that trickle from "The Green Man"; and, through all
this chorus, most insistently, the stealthy, stuttering steps of the
satyr. For your Chink takes his pleasure where he finds it; not,
perhaps, the pleasure that you would approve, for probably you are not
of that gracious temperament that accords pity and the soft hand to the
habits of your fellows. Yet so many are the victims of the flesh, and
for so little while are we here, that one can but smile and be kind.
Besides, these yellow birds come from an Eastern country, where they do
not read English law or bother about such trifles as the age of consent.

Every window, as always, was closely shuttered, but between the joints
shot jets of slim light, and sometimes you could catch the chanting of
a little sweet song last sung in Rangoon or Swatow. One of these songs
was once translated for me. I should take great delight in printing it
here, but, alas! this, too, comes from a land where purity crusades are
unknown. I dare not conjecture what Bayswater would do to me if I
reproduced it.

We passed through Pennyfields, through clusters of gladly coloured men.
Vaguely we remembered leaving Henrietta Street, London, and dining in
Old Compton Street, Paris, a few hours ago. And now--was this Paris or
London or Tuan-tsen or Taiping? Pin-points of light pricked the mist in
every direction. A tom-tom moaned somewhere in the far-away.

It was now half-past ten. The public-house at the extreme end was
becoming more obvious and raucous. But, at a sudden black door, Sam
stopped. Like a figure of a shadowgraph he slid through its opening, and
we followed. Stairs led straight from the street to a basement
chamber--candle-lit, with two exits. I had been there before, but to my
companions it was new. We were in luck. A Dai Nippon had berthed a few
hours previously, and here was its crew, flinging their wages fast over
the fan-tan tables, or letting it go at Chausa-Bazee or Pachassee.

It was a well-kept establishment where agreeable fellows might play a
game or so, take a shot of opium, or find