I don’t know that I understand altogether. You left Hong-Kong at night, by way of the Pearl River, and arrived in Canton the next morning. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves.
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