"I'd lay down my life for yours. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. , and go home before you have to. ‘It is not your affair. "Thank you, sir," said Spurlock, holding out his hand.
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