“I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. ‘Sergeant Trodger is who I am. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. Yet, here she was, in the ancient Chinese city, weaving in and out of the narrow streets some scarcely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, streets that boiled and eddied with yellow human beings, who worshipped strange gods, ate strange foods, and diffused strange suffocating smells. He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks.
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