. . The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. She fondled his penis which was stiff and straining against his pants. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone.
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