She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. Believe me, Anna. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind.
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