Quite trying of him not to be there when he is wanted. The will to live had returned. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head.
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