Gerald’s chest tightened. He held her eyes. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. What would you? I cannot fight them all. Influenced, probably, by what he had heard from Mr. Did he like freaks? She opened her black umbrella, her giant sun deflector. It might prove rewarding. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out.
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