William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. This discovery made, I hastened back to London to offer you my hand, but found you had married in the mean time a smock-faced, smooth-tongued carpenter named Sheppard. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. This amazing world she had set forth to discover! Yesterday at this time she had had no thought in her head about Canton.
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