Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. "I have nothing to forgive.
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