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Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. ’ ‘It is true,’ insisted the lady. Not a moment is to be lost. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. “Both. "I do," replied Sheppard. . " "I am here in Canton," she replied, simply. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction.
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