He turned in at the club. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. “I shall probably want you to come down to the ‘Unusual’ to-morrow morning,” he said. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. But as the next moment all was profound darkness, Jack easily managed to break away from them. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. But I'm not worrying about that. I cannot do it, David.
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