Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. “Is that plain?” she asked. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. Cut it as short as you can. Right now my heart is occupied. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground.
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