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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 don’t count, and I don’t care. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. " "Not while Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland live. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. " CHAPTER XIII. This is simply a chapter of coincidences.
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