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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. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. “I believe it is.

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