"I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired. Even that he sleeps, I must give to him my thanks, for he has been excessively brave for me. The popcorn dwindled to a half a bucket, his heart settled into its normal routine. And now, only twenty-four hours behind him … that is, if he wasn't paddling by on the return route to Hong-Kong or had dropped down to Macao. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. His bravado waxed and he asked her to what would be her first date in nearly twenty years. There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr. Ran in the family.
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