"Now, Sir, I'll trouble you for your coat. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. Good-looking girl. 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. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Too much, perhaps.
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