ment, he experienced a lively regret that there were places he must
explore without her comment.

It was a gala night in Chinatown. Even the provision shops were
festooned with sausages ornamented with bits of colored paper, and
decorated paper or silken lanterns hung before every house. Painted
women with stolid faces, often deeply imprinted with misery, rolled
along, and there were many pretty children in the street, painted too,
and dressed in the gayest and richest of garments. On the balconies of
the upper and greater restaurants were valuable jars and vases full of
plants and flowers. They ascended to the finest of these restaurants and
found a merchant's party eating at round tables from dolls' plates. In a
room opening upon a veranda, their creatures chanted what sounded to
Occidental ears like the dirge of the lost souls of all the Flowery
Empire, and the expression of the relaxed haunted faces confirmed the
impression. In large alcoves well-dressed Chinamen reclined on tables of
marble and teakwood, filling and refilling the opium pipe with an
infinity of patience that if otherwise applied might have led to
greatness instead of dreams.

"These men are just on exhibition," said Stone, contemptuously. "Wait
till I show you the real thing down in the slime. Lots of tall stories
about Chinatown, but the reality is bad enough."

They took a Jackson Street car and rode up through humbler Chinatown,
then through quarters of varying respectability until they reached the
sacred precinct of Nob Hill. Here there was an aristocratic calm, but
much light, and faint strains of music. The season was in full swing,
and society was either dining, or dressing for the dance.

As they climbed the hill-stair Stone artfully trimmed the ragged edges
of his wife's discontent. Subservient as she was to him, there were
times when her temper flew straight and sharp like a blade too long
hooped, and he had his reasons for conciliating her.

Said Gwynne in a low tone as they felt their way up the dark and
precarious flight: "Shall you think me rude if I accept Hofer's
invitation for to-morrow? And Stone wants me to do the town a bit
to-night. I am most curious--but I am your guest--and I can come down
another time--"

"I feel almost cross with you. This house is your hotel. If you ever go
to another--whether I am in town or not--there will be trouble."

So it was that as they reached the steps leading up to the door of the
house,