I'll put you aboard The Tigress to-morrow after sundown. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. In this state of knowledge you will be horribly, irrevocably, alone.
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