McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. “I wonder what he will do?” She tried to imagine situations that might arise out of Ramage’s antagonism, for he had been so bitter and savage that she could not believe that he would leave things as they were. “It’s—private. The idea of your being a failure would never have occurred to me. For a long time even the strong pipe tobacco (with which McClintock supplied him) possessed a coconut flavour.
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