oke. I can’t267 stay jawing about it, and you know it—it’s going to be a darned close squeak to m

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    ake connections with the steamer as it is. Are you coming or are you not?” “I are not. Do


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quiet down and tell me why it is that you’re totally unable to distinguish between

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comic opera and melodrama? This whole performance is the purest farce, I swear! Wai

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t till you see his Imperial Majesty—as nice a buttery, pompous little blighter as y

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ou’d want to lay eyes on, who’s spent six months at Cambridge and comes to heel li


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    ke a spaniel if you tell him that anything in the world ‘isn’t done.’ He has a solid gold bicycle and four unhappy marriages and a body-guard with bright green panties and mother-of-pearl handles to their automatics! You wouldn’t expect even a Chinaman to take that seriously, would you?” “I should think you’d go mad in your head trying to get along w

    ith a bounder who doesn’t know the first thin

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    g in the world about your code of standards or——” “William, you are the most frightful donkey! The only code that I’ve recognized since I pattered off the ancestral estate is the jolly dot-dash thing that they use for telegrams. I’ve finally got our Bhakdi to the point where he drills his troops in pure British and plays a cracking good game of268 auc

    tion bridge without cheating—civilization’s

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    greatest triumph in the Near or Far East. Personally, I ask no more of it!” Ledyard mopped his brow despairingly. The dim room with its snowy matting and pale green cushions looked cool enough, but the heat outside would have penetrated a refrigerator. Just the other side of those protecting shutters the sun was beating down on the quiet waters until they

    glared back like burning silver—the tufts of


FROM OUR BLOG

Fire Breathing Cats!

palm and bamboo were hanging like so many dejected jade banners in the breathless air—the ridiculous little houses were huddl

ed clumsily together on their ungainly piles, shrinking unhappily

Fire Breathing Cats!

under their huge hats of nippa thatch. “It’s a filthy, poisonous hole!” he protested fiercely. “It beats me why you can’

t see it. If anything went wrong here, you wouldn’t have a white

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man in a hundred miles to turn to. You needn’t laugh. There’s nothing so howlingly funny about it. What about that Scotch en

gineer who was so everlastingly intimate with your precious Bhakdi

Fire Breathing Cats!

’s next-door neighbour?” “Well, what about him? The poor chap fell down a shaft and broke his neck.” “Oh, he did, did h

e? Well, believe me, that’s not what they say in Singapore! Calve


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