Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. I’ve already been accepted to a couple of schools out east. 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. “But your hair,” he gasped.
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