‘I left a message at home that he should do so as soon as he returned from Kent. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. Wagstaff. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. “It’s because I mean to send it back altogether,” she said.
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