You never can tell. To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. Waving a white flag, naturally.
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