From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. “That sounds interesting. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. " "Deferred!" echoed Sheppard. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable.
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