Or perhaps my father once. ” “I forgive you willingly,” Anna said, bending over 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. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid.
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