From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. Ann Veronica had one of her flashes of insight. "I will struggle no longer with destiny.
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