It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. He could not contain his satisfaction, but chuckled, and rubbed his hands with delight. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. “You certainly got him in the bag.
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