“I do not know you,” she said coldly. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years.
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