You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out.
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