"Is she dead?" "No—no," answered Hogarth. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. 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. ” “Oh, you mean Mr.
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