But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that. The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly.
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