"The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. He turned and shouted some orders to the Kanaka crew, then nodded to the sampan's coolies, who bore upon the sweeps and headed for the Sha-mien. As sure as he is now living, I'll pay him a visit in the Old Bailey before morning.
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