She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. "And now, widow," continued the ruffian, setting down the candle, and applying his lips to the bottle neck as he flung his heavy frame upon a bench, "I've a piece o' good news for you. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. "But don't ever let me see them again. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. But probably not the truth.
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