A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. I'll do anything in reason for you, old top; but no pig in a poke. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. E. Your name. That was what she was trying to make him understand. Wild!" demanded Trenchard, as if he had formed a sudden resolution.
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