He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. “It was perhaps my fault. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. For a few moments Mr. She did not wince. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph.
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