For when this Joan said it, I had a memory. All through the love music of the second act, until the hunting horns of Mark break in upon the dream, Ann Veronica’s consciousness was flooded with the perception of a man close beside her, preparing some new thing to say to her, preparing, perhaps, to touch her, stretching hungry invisible tentacles about her. "When did you see him, my love?" "A short time ago," replied the housekeeper, unsuspiciously. 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. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us.
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