She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband. But I don’t think she lays hold of one so. I'm not particular what or where. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins.
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