"Are you his ghost, then?" "No—no," answered Jack. Few men could have done as much. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find. Jonathan, however, still lingered.
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