He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Little by little, she stopped hating him. The three young men exchanged expressive glances. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days. "He called me a wanton, Hoddy. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. She felt terrible lying to him. If there was a Yankee bar-keep in HongKong, James Boyle would soon locate him.
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