He remembered also, all at once, the very first words he had heard her speak: “I was not born to this. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing.
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