One morning, as he took his stand on the Hong-Kong packet dock to ambush the possible tourist, he witnessed the arrival of a tubby schooner, dirty gray and blotched as though she had run through fire. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. I suppose I ought to have been a man. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. “Morning, Mom.
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