The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. He seemed to deliberate. Ah Cum had no business taking him into the city last night.
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