“So very clear and cold,” she said. . His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out.
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