I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. Still unconscious of anything he did physically. “You know very well that she is selfish and pleasure-loving to the backbone. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. You left Hong-Kong at night, by way of the Pearl River, and arrived in Canton the next morning. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings.
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