But I know very well that that word will never be spoken. What’s that?” They both stood listening. ’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him. At a sign from Ah Cum, official custodian of the sightseers, the polechair coolies pressed toward the left and halted.
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