\"What did you do?\" Mike asked. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. The Oriental accepts my medicines kowtowing, and when my back is turned, chucks the stuff out of the window and burns joss-sticks.
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