Mr. “I wonder,” he said, “if women do know things by instinct? I have my doubts about feminine instinct. It’s all right. One of the sampans was hailed, and a ropeladder was lowered. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe.
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