“Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. My wife—killed me. She was quite tired of the stream of visitors and heard with relief the words of her newfound great-aunt, addressed to her son’s butler. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. ‘You are outrageous.
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