The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. "We have had a sad loss, my dear Winifred," he began,—"for I must use the privilege of an old friend, and address you by that familiar name,—we have had a sad loss in the death of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere. She had tried to shift the subject of conversation away from herself and was even managing successfully until Chen the father addressed her.
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