A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. “Hello, Gwen!” said Ann Veronica, trying to put every one at their ease.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-06-2024 02:38:44
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