The rustling of a silk dress, with the clinking of spurs and sword, passed the door, became fainter, and then ceased.

It was near midnight, and Schrotter rose to go.

He was thinking of Bhani, who was sitting up for him at home.

The dinner must have been paid for beforehand, for the guests were spared the sight of a money transaction to chill the end of their pleasant evening.

The cool night air felt refreshing after the heat of the small room.