She decided that she would try to push whatever resolve he had in the car to see where it would lead. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. "The manager says there is still some doubt. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. ’ She tossed her head. ‘You seem to understand the gentry very well. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other.
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