'"
"And what did her lovers say?" Angela asked.
"'We'll die for you, gladly. You have our hearts. You can have our hearts'
blood.'" And his eyes spoke to her of himself.
* * * * *
The first day was tiring, nevertheless Angela went out to Oakland that
night to the Greek theatre, where a classic tragedy was to be performed;
and next day it was the Presidio and Golden Gate Park. They lunched at the
Cliff House, and fed the barking sea-lions on the seal rocks. Then came a
few hours' rest: and Chinatown was saved as a _bonne-bouche_ for the
evening. They dined in the most stately and expensive of the Chinese
restaurants--"no chop suey house," as their waiter said, where they
entered through the kitchen to see cakes being baked, and pots of rice in
the act of cooking. Upstairs the walls were adorned with golden flowers,
panel paintings by artists of China, and strange dragons, and Buddhas
that nodded on shelves. There were open-work screens, and tables and
chairs of black, carved teakwood. Angela would have been aghast had she
dreamed that the queer dinner, which she liked and laughed at, cost Nick
more than a hundred dollars, but luckily she was not initiated in the
rarity of bird's-nest soup or other Chinese delicacies.
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