” Cathy hugged her. Manning, relinquishing his cup without answering her question, “when I hear you talk of earning a living, it’s as if I heard of an archangel going on the Stock Exchange—or Christ selling doves. All the precious paintings and statues of the divine family were here, as was the enormous wooden crucifix set above the altar. She could no longer wait. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed.
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