No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. Then it came to her with a shock, as an extraordinary oversight, that she could never tell Manning about Ramage—never. In this way, more than a month passed over. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites.
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