‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. He knew she was out there, he could feel it. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. For the first time it occurred to Ah Cum that the young man might not be quite conscious of his surroundings, that he might be moving in that comatose state which is the aftermath of a long debauch. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors.
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