'I see you have got the Degousses hung at last,' he said.
'How exquisite they are!' cried Miss Claire.

'How subtle and candid and brave! Doria and I warm our souls at their flame.' Some aromatic wood had been burned in the room, and there was a queer sickly scent about.

Everything in that place was strained and uneasy and abnormal--the candle shades on the table, the mass of faked china fruit in the centre dish, the gaudy hangings and the nightmarish walls.
But the food was magnificent.

It was the best dinner I had eaten since 1914.
'Tell me, Mr Brand,' said Miss Doria, her long white face propped on a much-beringed hand.

'You are one of us?
You are in revolt against this crazy war ?' 'Why, yes,' I said, remembering my part.