Michelle and her father sat in the audience, Diane having chosen to stay home to prepare dinner. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. “I just came to you and put myself in your hands. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication.
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