So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. A brisk talk sprang up between Capes and Mr. She twisted to meet him and folded into his embrace. Then he opened them again suddenly, to find Courtlaw still by his side. Her head ached with a hollow pain. “Come on in, Michelle. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo.
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