The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. The hurricane had now reached its climax. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent.
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