Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. 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. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. Enough to let her find out a piece of information most urgent. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way.
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