‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. F.
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