Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. . Here you are, young, sound, with a heart that will recover in no time, provided you keep liquor out of it. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. He would have to return to Hong-Kong; and his trail would be picked up the moment he set foot on the Praya. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance.
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