Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. Some Chinaman might take it into his head to shout: "Death to the foreign devils!" And out of that wall yonder would boil battle and murder and sudden death. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. Wild here presently.
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