The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. Ann Veronica decided she would have to go on with Capes another day, and, looking up, discovered him sitting on a stool with his hands in his pockets and his head a little on one side, regarding her with a thoughtful expression. “This is not every day. Sudden indignation boiled up in him.
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