She wondered wildly why she had stood up. “The rest,” she said, holding tightly to his hands, “is the most important of all. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. No idea that you were here, though. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. Each human contact leaves some indelible mark. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. It just made me mad to the boiling point.
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