It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. I will ring if I want you. ‘What Frenchman would that be, missie? We ain’t let no one escape. “Oh my God! You sounded like my Grandma just now! How did you do that?” He asked, shocked. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find.
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