The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'amour, volume Four (2006)
“It was raining outside on Kiangse Road, and her shoes were wet. From time to time she shifted uncomfortably and glanced about. Once her eyes met mine, and I smiled, but she looked quickly away, watching the auction.
There was always an auction somewhere, it seemed. One day it might be on Range Road or somewhere along the Route Frelupt, tomorrow in Kelmscott Garden. Household effects, usually, for people were always coming or going. The worlds of international business, diplomacy, and the armed services are unstable, and there is much shifting about, from station to station, often without much warning.
I knew none of these people, being an outsider in Shanghai and contented to be so, for a writer, even when a participant, must also be the observer. As yet I was not a writer, only someone wishing to be and endlessly working toward that end.
There were beautiful things to be seen, Soochow curtains, brass-topped tea tables, intricately carved chests of drawers, even sometimes swords or sc...imitars with jeweled hilts or the handmade guns of long ago.MoreLess
There was always an auction somewhere, it seemed. One day it might be on Range Road or somewhere along the Route Frelupt, tomorrow in Kelmscott Garden. Household effects, usually, for people were always coming or going. The worlds of international business, diplomacy, and the armed services are unstable, and there is much shifting about, from station to station, often without much warning.
I knew none of these people, being an outsider in Shanghai and contented to be so, for a writer, even when a participant, must also be the observer. As yet I was not a writer, only someone wishing to be and endlessly working toward that end.
There were beautiful things to be seen, Soochow curtains, brass-topped tea tables, intricately carved chests of drawers, even sometimes swords or sc...imitars with jeweled hilts or the handmade guns of long ago.MoreLess
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