A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. She snatched about in her mind. He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. "Why, this is your writing Dolly, and addressed to Mr. You'd be coming up to Hong-Kong, but you'd be cutting out Canton. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. She too had seen.
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