Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. You left Hong-Kong at night, by way of the Pearl River, and arrived in Canton the next morning. She was for ever scanning luggage and finding her way about the world, via these miniature pictures. ‘If it is that your men there are going to arrest us, then why do they not do so?’ ‘Left to myself, I’d let them,’ he replied grimly.
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