She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year.
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