She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. ” He read it in winter in the evening after dinner, and Ann Veronica associated it with a tendency to monopolize the lamp, and to spread a very worn pair of dappled fawn-skin slippers across the fender. You don’t understand. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. He stopped abruptly. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired.
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