If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. 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. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively.
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