She wondered if the second part would overcome his objections? Several times the words had rushed to her tongue, to find her tongue paralysed. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. You know Martin, right? He’s that beautiful half-Chinese boy that skipped a grade and has an I. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm.
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