"I feel guilty, going away and leaving that ignorant child; but our days have been so planned that we dare not change the schedule. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. 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. The latter were saved; but of the former nothing but the blackened stone walls were found standing on the morrow.
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