The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. "Who? Jack!" exclaimed Jonathan. Sometimes I try to talk. You don’t have to live forever to understand that. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done.
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