She leaned forward and addressed him. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. “I want an engagement. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. It filled her with indefinable fear. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. Footman or some such. Then instinct took over. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. I’ve got to have you, and by God I will. 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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