She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. “May I ask whether you are staying with friends in town?” he inquired deferentially. It was the beginning of June. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. "Well?" he said, as Spurlock reached his side. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding.
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