“One can talk without undertones, so to speak,” said Ramage. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s.
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