two o'clock in the morning
With the competent dexterity of an old money-changer she fingers them , turns them over , throws them on the floor , and , armed with a little mallet ad hoc , rings them vigorously against her ear , singing the while I know not what little pensive bird-like song which I daresay she improvises as she goes along . Well , after all , it is even more completely Japanese than I could possibly have imagined it -- this last scene of my married life ! I feel inclined to laugh . How simple I have been , to allow myself to be taken in by the few clever words she whispered yesterday , as she walked beside me , by a tolerably pretty little phrase embellished as it was by the silence of two o'clock in the morning , and all the wonderful enchantments of night . Ah ! not more for Yves than for me , not more for me than for Yves , has any feeling passed through that little brain , that little heart . When I have looked at her long enough , I call : `` Hi !