“And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. But here it is China. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. “What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.
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