If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. " "And me," insinuated Mrs. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. You seemed complete—without that. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project.
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