The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. What is he—English or American?" "American. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees.
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