“Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. John spent the first weeks of summer backpacking in Europe, and she heard occasional news from Michelle of his whereabouts. I was—I was a corespondent. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. . Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. She had trouble outwitting him as he seemed to predict her words before he said them. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. He was always doing his best to call her attention to the fact that he was a man of spirit and quality and experience, and she a young and beautiful woman, and that all sorts of constructions upon their relationship were possible, trusting her to go on from that to the idea that all sorts of relationships were possible.
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