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. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. For if Gerald had indeed gone to see this Prudence, it was better to wait for his report. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. And then I came here. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. He appeared to be a stranger to the prisoner, and the sole motive of his visit, curiosity. ‘You make a game with me, I think.
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