Austin, may repeat it if he pleases to his master, Jonathan Wild,—I have not. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. Melusine did not try to fight her captor, for that would only make him angry.
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