" Jack approached her. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. I'm heading for bed. Of all the amazing coincidences. It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. “Oh, much better. He is steeped in the conventions. He admitted that it would bore him to dally here in Canton, with the pleasures of Hong-Kong so close. "And so I want the boy out of the way," he concluded.
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