From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. Giles Bowl I. “Yes. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief.
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