Kneebone, Mrs. He will wish to have his fears laid to rest. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton.
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