Predictably, Charvill turned on him. . . ” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. 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. " "I can at least, protect myself," replied Wild, with, provoking calmness. But to live at peace with your neighbour…. A species of vertigo seized him. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead.
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