From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. " "Damnation!" cried Jonathan, stamping his foot with uncontrollable rage. ’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice. Presently. I'll tell you what. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold.
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