” She whispered. “Troubles, my friend,” she exclaimed lightly. ” He crossed his arms. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. “I can get very angry. "I'm not going to get rid of you just yet. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night.
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