" "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. 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. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. ” “A sort of history,” said Mr. He laughed reassuringly. "Sometimes a cup of lies is a cheering thing," replied the trader. The lines about his mouth gradually softened.
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