Refused admittance, they broke open the door. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. I am far too much the gentleman. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. She’s taken my sword. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. The two young fools laughed until they cried. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world.
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