She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. No matter what happened, whether the road smoothed out or became still rougher, he would always be carrying this secret with him; and each time he recalled it, the rack. She observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny.
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