” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. Something softened in Melusine’s chest. 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. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. It was, in fact, a group of interests quite unlike any other group, peculiar and special, and one to be thoroughly ashamed of.
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