He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. “I wrote it for you. There stepped forth a tall brown man. When I heard about Larry I was going 159 to call you, I was, but, well, there is no excuse, is there? I acted like I was afraid of you, afraid that I liked you, so I ignored you like a coward.
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