“How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted.
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