It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. " "And a famoush goot shignal it ish," laughed Abraham. But I am here.
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