Screenland (Nov 1941-Apr 1942)

Poppy had left the roulette table again and was sitting at the bar alone. There was hardly any trace left of that pretty girl who had come there first those short weeks ago. "Bring me some brandy and sulphur for a change to chase away the spirits," she ordered the bar man. She was sodden, so drunk that she almost fell off the high stool and caught wildly at the man's arm. "Where's Omar, the tent-maker?" she demanded. "Where's that Persian poet?" "Behave yourself, Poppy!" Mother Gin Sling took a quick step toward her. "You're in China and you're white." Then she smiled and her mouth twisted ironically. "It's not good for us to see you like this. You bring discredit to your race." "Don't preach to me!" Poppy faced her defiantly. "Let my race take care of themselves. What's upsetting you? Haven't I lost enough tonight? Don't touch me," she shouted as the other woman came closer. "Take away, your hands ! Don't paw me !" The older woman beckoned to a couple of Chinese boys. "Throw her out." The order came almost lightly, as if it were just any drunken derelict she was ridding herself of. And even through her stupor Poppy sensed it as she struggled defiantly between the two boys holding her. "I've enough money to buy this outfit," she screamed. "To buy everything that's in it. All that counts in here is money. But this is the last time you'll see me, you Mongolian cat!" The boys laughed as they forced her through the door and a gleam of triumph lighted Mother Gin Sling's eyes. The victory had been almost too easy. She would almost have enjoyed a more difficult one, the suspense of waiting to see if she would win. Ah, yes, she thought triumphantly, the Mongolian cat was almost finished with her mouse. All that was left now was the final pounce, she decided as she closed the door on Poppy's defiant face. The shock almost sobered Poppy. Almost but not quite. From somewhere deep within her she felt a nagging sense of shame but it didn't last long. Nothing lasted long these days but that fever within her, that fever of Omar and the lesser one that seized her when she stood before the roulette wheel, feeling almost as if its whirling motion had hypnotized her. Omar . . . the thought of him crucified her as she hurried to his hotel. When had he slipped away . . . where had he gone . . . was that little blonde tramp with him? There was more humiliation then, the clerk's lifted eyebrow as he looked at her, his superior smile as he told her the doctor was not in. But Poppy knew better as she ran up the stairs to his room, beseeching him through the closed door. Then the door opened and he stood there frowning at the scene she was making. "What does the poet say now?" she demanded and her love and hatred became only that open wound as she looked at him and saw him smile in that old, tantalizing way. "Man's love is of man's life a thing apart," Omar quoted. '"Tis woman's whole existence." "You're changing poets in midstream," Poppy said. "Why not?" His .smile held steadily to his contemptuous lips. "I'll change whatever I like and whenever it pleases me." In that moment the love was gone and only the hate remained. For a moment she hesitated, feeling the bulk of the small revolver in her handbag as she held it tensely. Then she weakened. She wouldn't use* it yet. There was still time. She couldn't stay away, either from Mother Gin Sling's place or from Omar. And it was only the morning that her father sent word he wished to see her at breakfast that she was drawn suddenly back to reality. How much would he see, how much would he notice, that father who had so little time for her lately ? With trembling fingers she applied make-up, compelling herself to hold steady as she went down to him. "Sit down, Victoria," Sir Guy Charteris said and only his eyes, suddenly anxious, showed he had seen the change in her. "Has there ever been any doubt in your mind that I love you better than anything in the world?" And then as she shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, he went on gravely. "We haven't been very close since you came to Shanghai and it's my fault. But you're all I have and I've spent a great deal of my life in trying to protect you from anything that could possibly hurt you. Now I'm sending you back to Singapore. I'll join you as soon as I've finished some work here, but I want you to leave this morning. I've chartered a plane for you." The girl felt as if she were suffocating. Not to see Omar tonight, not to try her luck just this one time more and pay back those debts that had become an eternal nightmare. "I won't go !" She faced him defiantly. "Now look here, Victoria." His voice held its tenderness even in the new sharp note that had crept into it. 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