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As if to settle my doubts, the recumbent figure suddenly arose and without a word fled into the darkness and was gone like a phantom. My new friend made no attempt to follow, but: "You can't kill a bloody Chink," he confided, still clutching my hand; "it ain't 'umanly possible. It's easier to kill a cat. Come along o' me and 'ave one; then I'll tell you somethink.
Ah-Fang-Fu reappeared behind him. "Catchee dlunk ev'ly time for comee here," he chattered. "'Taint 'umanly possible," declared the new arrival, staggering down the steps, "fer a 'ealthy sailorman to git drunk on coloured water just 'cause the publican calls it beer! I ain't drunk; I'm only miserable. Gimmee a pipe, Pidgin." Ah-Fang-Fu barred the door and ascended.
An' unless they 'ung yer which it ain't 'umanly possible to 'ang a Chink it wouldn't be the last an' not by a damn long way ...an' not by a damn long way!" Ah-Fang-Fu, shrugging resignedly, shuffled from bunk to bunk in quest of a disused pipe, found one, and returning to the extemporised table, began to load it, muttering to himself.
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