Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. She was nearly dead. He savored the last solo, the coda. "Do not despair!" echoed Mrs. . He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. It is better to face the truth. As it happens sometimes, the idea stepped down from the dream into the reality; and he saw it more clearly now than he had seen it in the dream. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger.
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