“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. The Oriental waterfronts were rank with the stuff. But he told me this much, that no matter how far Mr. John’s parents were won over.
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