“How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. Never mind. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire.
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