She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. “Okay. “Tell me more about this Martin Chen. Were the parents agreeable? Were they of age? Had the license been procured? But here, in a far country, only the velvet manacles of wedlock were necessary. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. No Cantonese was in those days permitted to cross to the Sha-mien after sunset without a license.
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