" "I don't unterstand you," returned Mrs. 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. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. It had been intensified and corrupted by time, as if to add insult to injury. ’ Fury rippled again. " "The Dawn Pearl! Odd, but we white folks aren't half so poetical as the yellow or the black.
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