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“Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. They were only passers-by. Wood, leaping from the bed. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. " "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice. “I detest amateurs. That's why I'm so anxious to get her to a haven. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Eric Vorsack still toiled at work.
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