A straight pale blue jacket covered her shoulders and opened on the
breast over a white muslin vest. Her skirts hung like the full
trousers of Persian women, and were a deep yellow in colour. Her feet
were bare, and shone white on the red floor.

"How do you do, Suzee?" said Morley.

"How do you do, Mister Morlee," returned the girl lightly, smiling and
showing pretty little teeth as she did so.

"You two gentlemen want some tea? Very good. I make it."

She glided to the curtains and disappeared as rapidly and noiselessly
as she had entered.

I turned to Morley with enthusiasm.

"She's lovely, perfect."

"Isn't she just? I knew you'd say so. But she's married, old man, so
don't you think you can go playing any tricks with her."

"Married?" I gasped incredulously, "that child? Impossible! You're
joking."

"I'm not, 'pon my honour. She has a great roaring brute of a baby,
too."

"How horrible!" I exclaimed. "Yes, horrible. You've spoiled it all. It
seems a sacrilege."