"To yesterday and to to-day I say my polite "vaya usted con Dios." Whatare these days to me? But that far-off day of my romance, when frombetween the blue and white bales in Don Ramon's darkened storeroom, atKingston, I saw the door open before the figure of an old man with thetired, long, white face, that day I am not likely to forget. I rememberthe chilly smell of the typical West Indian store, the indescribablesmell of damp gloom, of locos, of pimento, of olive oil, of new sugar,of new rum; the glassy double sheen of Ramon's great spectacles, thepiercing eyes in the mahogany face, while the tap, tap, tap of a caneon the flags went on behind the inner door; the click of the latch; thestream of light. The door, petulantly thrust inwards, struck againstsome barrels...."