But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. And we are not traders looking at equivalents. “Child!” he cried. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter. 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. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped.
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