The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. But I can give it its name now. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness.
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