He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation. “Women are mocked,” she said. "Open them when you get on board—not before, and act as they direct you. I want to leave Paris to-day. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. Those awful chairs!" After dinner the spinsters proceeded to inscribe their accustomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself. Canton was something like a blind alley; unless you were native, you couldn't get anywhere except by returning to Hong-Kong and starting afresh. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury.
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