Again he rushed. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. My heart misgives me. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort.
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