Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. Upon this, Jack earnestly and eloquently addressed himself to the bench, and besought that a petition which he had prepared to be laid before the King might be read. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. Langley is getting up, and coming this way. “Dare!” she said.
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