Then he looked across at Mrs Sindlesham. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. His pipe hung dead in his teeth, but the smoke was dense about him. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. "What about it?" "Enschede. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. Canton at night is as much China as the border town of Lan-Chow-fu. ’ The lady uttered a scornful sound.
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