What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. Sheppard, fervently. The latter request, though treated with supreme contempt by Mr. "'Odd's! bodikins!" cried Jack, rubbing his cheek, "I'm in luck to-day. The sunshine broke across each shoulder, one lance striking the yellow face of a Chinaman, queueless and dressed in European clothes, the other lance falling squarely upon the face of the man he had journeyed thirteen thousand miles to find.
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