The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. ‘Have I not said so?’ ‘No, as it happens. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. There was something markedly and deliberately liberal-minded in his manner in all their encounters. ‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you.
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