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Colombo was long to figure in Scarlett's mind as a Delphic city hidden behind numberless sunsets, towards which his ship crawled with sluggish keel, bringing the weightiest question in the Orient. Should he ever see Laura? This uncertainty, assuming the various guises of confidence, despair, resignation, prolonged and embittered his westward course; till at last the oracle gave answer, in a G. O. H. envelope, inscribed with the same handwriting that had saved his life two thousand miles away.

Colombo was a joyful place; and the Clock Tower Light winked a knowing farewell. Nothing else had mattered. Heaving aside the oily stillness of the Arabian Sea, the ship throbbed northward. Slowly, one by one, the friendly