I thought Mr. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. He no longer made love to her, as there was no point. It would be swindling. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain.
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