Have nothing to do with it, John.
All right, Mary, I’m not going to. But, do you mean one could go back ten years?
Well, it seems odd, but I’ll take your word for it. But look here, you can’t live ten years in a day, you know.
My master has power over time.
John, don’t have anything to do with him.
All right, Mary. But who is your master?
He is carved of one piece of jade, a god in the greenest mountains. The years are his dreams. This crystal is his treasure. Guard it safely, for his power is in this more than in all the peaks of his native hills. See what I give you, master.
Well, really, it’s very good of you.
Good night, Mr. Ali. We are very much obliged for your kind offer, which we are so sorry we can’t avail ourselves of.
One moment, Mary. Do you mean that I can go back ten years, and live till—till now again, and only be away a day?
Start early and you will be here before midnight.
Would eight o’clock do!
You could be back by eleven that evening.
I don’t quite see how ten years could go in a single day.
They will go as dreams go.
Even so, it seems rather unusual, doesn’t it?
Time is the slave of my master
All right, Mary. [In a lower voice.] I’m only trying to see what he’ll say.
All right, John, only . . .
Is there no step that you would wish untrodden, nor stride that you would make where once you faltered?