"I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. The gong will go at seven-thirty. There were too many kills, too many unsolved files in too many cabinets. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes.
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