She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. 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. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley. He would go there.
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