‘I am entirely English. Like carpenter, like chips. John, he was between me and the door. “I’ve tried to make words tell it. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. laws alone swamp our small staff. The plank hung over his head. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. “I should kill you. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.
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