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The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. Always the other things remained. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. I hate this part of the world. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain.
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