’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. What was the old tabby at? Unaccountably embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. That’s my point.
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