‘You are there. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. ‘You did not find Gosse, that is seen, but—’ ‘Gosse? Gosse? Who’s this here Gosse then?’ ‘He is the Frenchman of whom I told you. 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. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. Abruptly, Gerald turned.
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