Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. In Europe or in America people would have smiled; but in Singapore—the half-way port of the world—where a human kaleidoscope tumbles continuously east and west, no one had remarked her. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. That’s— that’s my private life. I had no idea. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. He glanced up at the coachman.
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