Sometimes it seemed to him that he was an impostor: that Ruth believed him to be one Howard Spurlock, when he was only masquerading as Spurlock. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. " "You'll take the consequences, then?" "Willingly. As you know my seed is infertile with all women, they are no more than cattle, but it was not so with my Rhea. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. He caught the elderly dame’s eye, throwing her a desperate message.
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