I did so. “What are you doing?” He cried. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. “You’re splendid. “I am. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. 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. Be kind to her.
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