Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage. The floor was planked with oak, and covered with iron staples, hooks, and ringbolts, with heavy chains attached to them. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. ” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand. For the most part these were detached people: men practising the plastic arts, young writers, young men in employment, a very large proportion of girls and women—self-supporting women or girls of the student class. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. But that explains everything. ’ Her gaze followed the butler, who was moving towards the door. "Where is he?" he cried. Would I could purchase his apathy as easily as I can procure his assistance.
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