If the boy was legging it alone…. 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. Spurling in alarm. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. And now, only twenty-four hours behind him … that is, if he wasn't paddling by on the return route to Hong-Kong or had dropped down to Macao. ‘And I do understand.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 16:05:45