"It would avail him little if he did," replied Kneebone. “Stay where you are for a moment,” she directed. "Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. ’ ‘You see? Not to be trusted,’ Hilary uttered disgustedly. She foraged about in her mind for some satisfying equivalent which would express in English this gurgling drone the Chinese called a language. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide.
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