What are you going to tell me?" "Nothing. It was perfectly logical. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. ‘Pray you, do me this one little service, and do not ask me why.
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