There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. This also struck her as odd. " "Detained!" echoed Marvel. He caught the smirk. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. “Put her in the trunk. They’ll face facts as facts, and understand. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. 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.
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