There was nothing for it but to have Mr. Chang come right over. He did. He was small and gray-haired and bent, with pants belted high above his waist. Mr. Chang examined the visitors. He sat on Mrs. Srinivasan’s lavishly pillowed wicker couch, and rolled himself a cigarette. Mr. Chang put such luscious handiwork into this that it was clear that smoking was his full-time occupation.