” She propped herself up on the massive oaken post of the bed, feeling the paralysis tingle her legs as it left them ever so slowly. Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. "It is your son. Wood, was pronounced by that lady to be very much sprained; and she, forthwith, proceeded to bathe it with a reddish-coloured lotion. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. Sheppard, with startling eagerness.
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