The lines about his mouth gradually softened. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks.
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