The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone.
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