“But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. 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. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. . Thank goodness you’ll understand. Wood the carpenter.
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