The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. ‘You and Jarvis Remenham both, yes. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. 132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. Her mind left her.
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