‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. Yes, this was a little better. ‘How famous. “DON’T!” she said, and wrenched her wrist from his retaining hand. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. She was informed by Ah Cum that the Chinaman was one of the literati and that he was expounding the deathless philosophy of Confucius, which, summed up, signified that the end of all philosophy is Nothing. Roused by Ben's warning, the carpenter looked up and could just perceive the dusky outline of the bridge looming through the darkness, and rendered indistinctly visible by the many lights that twinkled from the windows of the lofty houses.
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