“Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. Some Chinaman might take it into his head to shout: "Death to the foreign devils!" And out of that wall yonder would boil battle and murder and sudden death. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her.
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