I'm burning up. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. A vast indifference settled down upon him. Say that I will call again or let him know my address in London. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek.
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