She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. No man knew whence she had come nor why. Ah Cum was not a sailor, but he knew his water-front. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. There must be ways of getting rid of him. ” “No, I don’t. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently.
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