I keep my finger on the pulse of things. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. Michelle burst into laughter, followed by John, who almost spit up his cola. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him.
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