Ants. You know the sort of thing. Let me go, Sir. ’ He held out his hand to help the girl descend. She flailed against the doctor’s grip but after what seemed an eternity of kicking and flailing, amazingly, he had not seemed weakened in the slightest by her resistance. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. It came with an extreme effect of re-discovery, a remarkable novelty. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated.
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