Wood, disdainfully. Winifred, you are deceived in me. 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. We are alone and we can say and do what we please. From me. But the figure was evidently too intent on peering within the ballroom to pay any attention to what might be occurring outside.
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