"He sails to-morrow morning in the very vessel by which I start," replied Jack. But she was disturbed, mysteriously disturbed. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. “They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said. It was obvious that he had waited for her.
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