If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. For fully five minutes he lay quite motionless. Well, I don't blame you on that ground.
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