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Updated: April 30, 2025
'Ain't you coming home along with us?" "They won't be long now. Oh, you are good...." Fanny's hunger revived as she took the food, and now she was waiting ungratefully for them to be gone that she might start on her heavensent meal. "Good-bye, ma'am," they cried together. "Good-bye," she waved, and as their car passed onwards she climbed up on to the mudguard and spread the rug over her knees.
To a chorus of yells November's driver shut down the brakes not a thought too soon not soon enough, indeed, to avoid a collision that crumpled a mudguard as though it had been a thing of pasteboard. Simultaneously P. Sybarite's chauffeur set the brakes, and with the agility of a hounded rabbit seeking its burrow, dived from his seat to the side of the car farthest from the gangsters.
Here, in the yard, was nothing but broken iron and mouldering carriage work the cemetery of the Transport of the Grand Quartier. Lining all one side of the yard ran a shed, closed and warmed and lighted, where living cars slept in long rows mudguard to mudguard, and bright lamps facing outward.
"Those are the beggars we lie awake for, patrollin' the high seas. There ain't a port in China where we wouldn't be better treated. Yes, a Boxer 'ud be ashamed of it," said Pyecroft. A cloud of fine dust boomed down the road. "Some happy craft with a well-found engine-room! How different!" panted Hinchcliffe, bent over the starboard mudguard.
Ruth, amazed, could not understand what Wonota meant. Then the car was upon her, the mudguard knocked her down, and her loose coat catching in some part of the car, she was dragged for several yards before Wonota could reach her. Over and over in the dust Ruth had been whirled. She was breathless and bruised. She could not even cry out, the shock of the accident was so great.
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