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It was horrible. “Dear John,” she whispered. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. A maidservant held the front door open. Of course, it was ridiculous, this inclination to assist the fugitive, based as it was upon an intangible university idea. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman.
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