She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. My will is executed, and placed in safe custody.
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