Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. They stood back together and stared at it. He had nothing to guide him; for though the torches were blazing ruddily below, their gleam fell only on the side of the building. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. I don’t want to stop your singing.
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