It was not five o'clock, yet because of the grayness the lights were on. Three men and a woman sat at the table closest to them. They were leaning forward and talking confidentially, but they had to raise their voices. Their words came over the hum of the tea-drinkers and the clink of crockery, and Megan, hearing them, became gradually aware of their stinging, their fantastic incredibility. "--spent bullet came into her room, right here. The clerk at the desk just told me." "Who is she, do I know her?" "--they say the whole of Chapei is on fire now. You know what those Chinese houses are. It is one fiery furnace." Mrs. Jackson and Megan looked quickly at each other. "--Yes, a shambles too. Full of cornered Northern troops, fighting from house to house. They are so desperate they'll probably try to break into the Settlement for safety." "--But the worst is those Russians. You know, White Russians in Northern pay. They are in an armored car on a siding over by the North Station, they are shelling everything around till their ammunition gives out. They're doomed and they know it. What will happen to them?" "I hate to think." Megan leaned toward Mrs. Jackson. "Do you hear what they say?" Mrs. Jackson nodded absently. Megan felt her heart beating faster. She could not drink her tea and wondered how Mrs. Jackson could go on eating large cream cakes and toast with jam. But war was a commonplace to Mrs. Jackson, while tea in a hotel lobby was not. "Can't they do something about it?" Megan asked. "Oh, no, that is all Chinese territory." Megan took out her leather cigarette case and put it back again. "I see," said Mrs. Jackson, "they are wearing lots of red fox. And it used to be so out of date. Isn't it funny how things always come back?" And she continued to look around her with a politely furtive greediness at this delightful world which she knew only too well she would shortly have to leave. "Isn't that Mr. Jackson?" asked Megan. Mrs. Jackson turned. "Why, so it is." He was talking to a man who, Mrs. Jackson said, was one of the American consuls. Presently he saw them, nodded absently, and in a moment came over and joined them. His face was very flushed, his eyes looked heavy. "Doctor Strike is still trying to get his pass," he told them. "He has been trying all afternoon to reach General Hsu at the Nantao Yamen. I don't know with what success. I advised him if that failed to try to get hold of General Yen. You know, the paper said he was somewhere in the French Concession. I have just been trying to get the Orphanage by telephone but can't get it. The whole district is a blaze of fire, it seems." "Well, you've done all you can. Sit down and have some tea." "Yes, do have some tea," said Megan. Mr. Jackson sat down heavily with a sigh. Megan poured him a strong cup and he drank it without saying a word. Then he made an effort to recover his cheerfulness.