But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. When he was given the telegram he flew to the Praya, engaged the fast motorboat he had previously bespoken against the need, and started for the Macao Passage, with the vague hope of speaking The Tigress. “How unkind!” she exclaimed. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. The night was now profoundly dark.
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