"O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess. ’ He let her go. Those I don’t mind, though, the games. I came to the Beck’s house. The perfume was the only one she ever used. He thanked God for this talent of his. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey.
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