Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. Then came the cable that you were in Canton, ill, but not dangerously so. "After him," cried Wild; "he mustn't escape. Lucy's grin faded. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen.
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