A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. In a few seconds, the shutter flew open,—then the window,—and they were in the room. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it.
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