“Don’t!” she begged. “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. White rang the bell. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license. Some friends who saw us dining together persist in alluding to her as Miss Annabel Pellissier. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life.
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