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The Cantonese, excepting in the shops where he expects profit, always resents the intrusion of the fan-quei—foreign devil. It's infernally provoking. Charvill’s fury was burning out. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. Completely overcome by fatigue, with strained muscles, and bruised hands; streaming with perspiration, and with lips so parched that he would gladly have parted with a treasure if he had possessed it for a draught of water; he sank against the wall, and while in this state was seized with, a sudden and strange alarm. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world.
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