Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. The Widow and her Child II. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. “That is where I got confused,” he said. CHAPTER XXII. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. The attempt was unsuccessful.
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