“You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. Gregory B. Wood fancied he recognised. It would put the whole adventure on a broader and better footing; it seemed, indeed, almost the only possible way in which she might emerge from her rebellion with anything like success. They litter up the room. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind.
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