"What did you do?" he asked, in a broken voice. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. Here, put it on your finger. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. The sing-song girls in Hong-Kong are far handsomer. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. "I wish merely to come out of this bargain honourably. .
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