He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. “My heart, my dove, I only want to heal you. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. Giles's was lined with spectators. " Sir Rowland, meantime, throw himself on his knees beside his sister, and, clasping her chilly fingers within his own, besought her forgiveness in the most passionate terms. The major will not call. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage.
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