. ’ Captain Roding looked frowningly from one to the other. 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. For a time they walked in silence. I can’t help you a cent. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist.
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