" The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. “Not possible. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. ’ ‘Then you will die at the hands of the canaille. It is not for myself I fear. "Thinking it likely you might desire to have this information, I prepared accordingly.
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