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. “But Sebastian! I need them!” He smiled, not a smile of comfort, but a smile of terrible menace. I've a question to ask him. “Impossible to say,” he answered. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon.
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