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” Courtlaw rose too. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn. He was only a younger son, and you know what trouble we had. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. Several of the assailants carried links, so that the room was a blaze of light. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. It seems Valade visited him that day to present his credentials, and Charvill posted straight off to inform his great-uncle. I asked him—to take me away. "Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced. I am an old friend, and I declined to be shelved.
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