He allowed his irons and clothes to be taken off without resistance. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter.
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