“Thank you for inviting me back.”“Uh...” Bob choked.“I’m still sick,” she said. “I mean the tumor is still there.” She looked over at her parents. “It got smaller, but it’s still there. They think it was something from here that did that.”Bob just stared at her. He was so overwhelmed by her mere presence that he couldn’t function.“You’re not very talkative today,” said the girl, cocking her head and staring at him.“I don’t ... feel too good,” Bob whimpered.“Well, go get some rest or something,” she said. “I want to go for another ride.” She pursed her lips and made a kissing sound. The look of invitation in her eyes was as loud as a shout. Then, she turned, and walked back toward her parents. Her father was taking a suitcase out of the trunk of the car. Linda said something to Brenda as they passed each other, and walked over to Bob.“Thank you, again,” she said, as she approached Bob. “Dave and I can’t stay long, but there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”Talking to Linda. It was so very different from the first time that we had shared a carriage. Hands in their laps, they contented themselves with the view from the car. It may be that they had some apprehension regarding what awaited them in Greenwich but, if so, they gave no evidence of it.The Pool of London was busy with steamers, paddle freighters and sailing vessels, all fighting for berth space to unload or load their cargoes. As we passed Limehouse, Amanda gave a nervous glance towards an ocean-going junk that was moored there. I suspected that, for a moment at least, she imagined she was about to be consigned to the fate that she had fantasised for herself so many times, but we soon left the Hong Kong company's wharf behind us.The car hissed to a stop at Island Gardens, a most inappropriately named stop, I feel. The small park was in shadow from the great forest of masts of the ships moored in the river. The road alongside was noisy with the toing and froing of numerous trucks carrying their.
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