To reach the Sha-mien—and particularly the Hotel Victoria—one crossed a narrow canal, always choked with rocking sampans over and about which swarmed yellow men and women and children in varied shades of faded blue cotton. Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. certainly did seem to improve the aspect of Ramage’s suggestion. Maybe later. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke.
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