You must forgive the poet’s license I take. 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. "They can't go into the Condemned Hold," said Ireton, consequentially; "it's against Mr. She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather.
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