In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. His light brown hair was almost crew cut short. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. But, as you perceive, I brought it away with me. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. Her head rose.
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