“You met no one upon the stairs, or saw no one leave the flats?” “No one,” Anna answered firmly. 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. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her.
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