She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. She foraged about in her mind for some satisfying equivalent which would express in English this gurgling drone the Chinese called a language. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. I’m very resourceful, you know. I could tell it was Italian, you see. Here, might be seen a poor fellow whose teeth were knocked down his throat, spluttering out the most tremendous menaces, and gesticulating like a madman: there, another, whose nose was partially slit, vented imprecations and lamentations in the same breath.
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