Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. I didn’t get it, why she put on the innocent act. All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died. ” “I may come a little way, then?” he begged. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him.
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