"I read those stories. . A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. G. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. ‘And how do you propose to get in?’ ‘Scullery window. Then I assumed a rather portentous manner to prepare him. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight.
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