Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. "But she is saying something to me! What is it?" The hotel manager, who spoke Cantonese with facility, interpreted. As usual, however, on the occasion of any great calamity, a crowd was scouring the streets, whose sole object was plunder.
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