Wood was once a favourite of yours. Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. Michelle walked towards the sloping Victorian stairs. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me.
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