‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. Each human contact leaves some indelible mark. You see, I have had to look after myself so long that I have developed a terrible bump of independence. He took his social pleasures once a year in Hong-Kong, after Easter. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play.
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