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. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. Then Mike came along. Give me your name, girl!’ ‘Again?’ Mademoiselle rolled her eyes. “Any choice as to which of the Halls? You can pick and choose, you know. It is positively hateful to think of it. Hastily, he reached for the door.
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