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She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers. 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. “I must repeat,” Sir John said, “that I much regret disturbing you at such an unseemly hour. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. After all, life had still its pulsations.
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