" O'Higgins tore free the scarlet band of his perfecto, the end of which he bit off with strong white teeth, and smiled. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. There was a short, red-faced, resolute youth who inherited an authoritative attitude upon bacteriology from his father; a Japanese student of unassuming manners who drew beautifully and had an imperfect knowledge of English; and a dark, unwashed Scotchman with complicated spectacles, who would come every morning as a sort of volunteer supplementary demonstrator, look very closely at her work and her, tell her that her dissections were “fairish,” or “very fairish indeed,” or “high above the normal female standard,” hover as if for some outbreak of passionate gratitude and with admiring retrospects that made the facetted spectacles gleam like diamonds, return to his own place. Jack turned away with an aching heart. They were now both in a state of unprecedented physical fitness. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you.
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