He resolved to judge for himself. “Lucy, you. " "Mr. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. In stature, he was short and stumpy; in person, corpulent; and in countenance, sleek, snub-nosed, and demure. It would send business elsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperous that one could afford to lose a single guest. “You did your best to kill me,” he said.
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