They flash to and fro, they thrill us with expectancy. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. But it’s as you say. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. You seem to want this chap out of Canton. There's an animal! He thrives in all zones, upon all manner of food.
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