‘I think it is better if I hold the pistol. But in the early days of her abduction, she did not allow him to touch her. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. 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.
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