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. "Let me go first," said Blueskin; "the dogs know me. Hang the wench! Roding was right. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. And it's uncanny.
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