From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. He was always in a state of semi-intoxication, but he was always gentle with me. You come to visit a completely different gentleman at his home. .
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