“Enter Sir John, very honest, very much in love with me. It was you! It was exactly you, but it was probably the photo they thought it was your mother! I dug it up after combing the Reader’s Guide To Periodical Literature for like, six hours straight. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. It would send business elsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperous that one could afford to lose a single guest. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. “But that’s not all. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. ” “You want my body? It’s yours for the taking. Let me recommend a glass of wine.
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