"Have you never an out-o-the-vay corner, into vich you could shtow these troublesome warmint?" observed Abraham. An Englishwoman. As he understood it, folks saw in two or three days all there was to see of Canton. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. But I liked to say it. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. The quiet encounter and home-coming Ann Veronica and she had contemplated was entirely disorganized by this misadventure; there were no adequate explanations, and after they had settled things at Ann Veronica’s lodgings, they reached home in the early afternoon estranged and depressed, with headaches and the trumpet voice of the indomitable Kitty Brett still ringing in their ears.
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