So there is no escape. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. “Like what, Lucy?” She saw the panic threaten to overtake him. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. It is really amusing. “Something. When he was up and about, the idea of flight would return. ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape.
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