As he left Chinatown behind, Alan thought of the woman he’d seen on the wharf the other day, the golden splendor of her gown, her glossy hair and the turbulent emotion in her eyes. He wondered what she was doing right now and if she’d found happiness in her new home.

Alan prayed she wasn’t complying from some sense of obligation. He didn’t want that, but neither could he bear for her to leave him to spend another night alone.

Together they sank onto the mattress, lying face-to-face. The bed was too narrow for two, but Alan would’ve been entwined as close as possible with her even if they were lying in his parents’ huge tester bed, the one his Dutch grandfather, a wealthy merchant, had brought over from Amsterdam.

Alan shook his head. Jeremy was hopeless. Either he’d find an equally soft-headed girl and they’d live happily ever after like two cooing doves, or he’d be eaten alive by some she-spider.

Alan lowered the lamp flame until there was only a glimmer of light in the room. His skin burned with fever as he climbed into bed beside Huiann. He felt like a groom on his wedding night except, he reminded himself, there would be no copulation. None. Not tonight.