The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. “I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline.
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