Sax Rohmer

“ Jasmine groped for a box of cigarettes which lay upon the window-seat, keeping her eyes fixed in an unseeing stare upon a group of firs topping the mound which concealed the tennis courts. They showed as silhouettes, for the moon hung over the distant hills investing the heather. Jasmine had learned that the smell of heather by night was different from that which characterized it during the day. ”

“ Many men had lied to her. Probably, with the exception of her father, every man she knew had lied to her. What did it matter? Yet why—why? It was so unnecessary.
As if attracted by the glow of her cigarette, a bat swooped very low and near to the window. Jasmine shrank back instinctively, and the bat, a large one, floated away again.
It was difficult to believe that London was so near. Even in Aunt Phil's obsolete car it would be quite possible to get to the Embassy in time for supper. Perhaps Douglas was there with Madame Sabinov. But no; she rather thought he would be at the Mayfair. ”

“ Jasmine was angry with herself for being afraid of bats. Her feminine distaste for mice she had conquered many years before, but bats and spiders defied her. She had never fainted—modern woman does not faint; but she had a horrible conviction that if ever a bat touched her, settled in her hair, as she had read of such creatures doing, she should swoon. ”