“There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates. She never even graduated high school, and that has been a thorn in her side ever since. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. . “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. "Now, lead me to a hotel where I can get breakfast.
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