One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. shouldn’t be friends. Anna turned round with a start, which was almost of guilt, the poker still in her hand. Now then. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. “You look more like your old self when you smile,” he remarked.
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