The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. "A hundred pounds!" exclaimed Shotbolt. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. Before Marthe will become impatient and come out. And now you must go back, take up your work and think all this over.
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