That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. And no ill-chances. He could only wonder that this amazing thing had remained so long a secret to him. Canton is all China at night. You may fall into the hands of your enemy.
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