"Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. " The girl's blood ran warmly for a minute. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil.
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