Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. Let's talk of this chap.
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