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. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. They thought that he was dead at first, and they took him to the hospital. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered.
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