For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. There would be no moon. I looked upon you from the first as the most promising of my pupils.
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