“His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. Kneebone and his friends would be glad of a little refreshment. I am going up to dine with my sister. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. Perhaps he had had money in the coat, back in Hong-Kong, and had been robbed without knowing it. “Well, no,” she answered.
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