Never glance sideways at man. 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. "My name is Kneebone," added the portly personage, stepping forward. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air.
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