” Mr. Detention was merry for the other detainees. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. " "Sir Rowland is dead," replied Jonathan, gloomily. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. In the distance a bell clanged, and chattering broke out in the doorway as several nuns came crowding in.
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