Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. It hardly served his interests. Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. One morning he caught her hand suddenly and kissed it. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret.
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