Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. He made Hong-Kong at dusk: wet, hungry, and a bit groggy for the want of sleep; but he was in no wise discouraged. He does not look the criminal. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink.
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