The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. "Be still!" "Oh, come along! I've just got to have my muck bath. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. “Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. "My heart," rejoined Thames, firmly; "which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer. ‘En effet, it is for this that I was enquiring of this man if he has pen and paper. “You have killed me. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic.
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