And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. She could not help thinking of Capes. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. It was about twelve feet high, nine wide, and fourteen long; and was approached by double doors each six inches thick. Published by Elizabeth Bailey 2012 www. ” “Delusion!” he muttered, glaring at her. Stanley, at the door. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent.
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