’ ‘It was so,’ said Valade, becoming a trifle more fluent. “My child, I do not wish. He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers. And now, only twenty-four hours behind him … that is, if he wasn't paddling by on the return route to Hong-Kong or had dropped down to Macao. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. He sent me home.
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