The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. "Within the last few minutes, all my guilty life has passed before me. " "Impossible!" cried Jonathan. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard.
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