“I noticed him call her attention to us as we passed down the room,” he answered. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. Wu may have news for us. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him.
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