9. Come along, master. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. " "Yes, I will," replied Jack sullenly, "if you beat me in that way. “You are very stupid, Anna,” she said. "That would be certain destruction. On the contrary. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER.
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