‘That is good,’ she said with satisfaction, ‘for I was compelled on Saturday to abandon the chase. Oh, wait!’ She seized Jack’s arm as he was about to go out of the room. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. She wanted to kiss his feet. She knew it. In short, more preparations were made than if a state criminal was about to be executed. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She foraged about in her mind for some satisfying equivalent which would express in English this gurgling drone the Chinese called a language.
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