He looked at his friend. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. ” The man’s face was dark with passion. "Take care of yourself, then," rejoined Thames, doubling his fists, and advancing towards him: "though my right arm's stiff, I can use it, as you'll find. ‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Canton is all China at night. For a long time neither spoke again. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured.
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