From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple.
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