Brown was no fool, and he understood the sudden onus of the other children to share the limelight. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan.
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