Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. Her orgasm began as an insistent throb. ‘She gave me four separate identities for herself, you must know, including Prudence, before I managed to get at her real name. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins.
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