The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. ’ She waved towards a handy table to one side which was piled high with so many volumes, it looked in imminent danger of crashing to the floor. You are you. ’ ‘Ah, non?’ Her voice was neutral. Another labyrinth in hell!" A smile broke over the trader's face. ’ A little sigh escaped her.
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