Plote was sleeping or deaf. The tall, blond boys, right?” “That’s them. ” He said admiringly. " "Wretch!" cried Mrs. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. ” He called for a hansom.
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