"Have you got Jonathan out of the way?" he asked, in an eager whisper. Meanwhile, the combat between Kneebone and Mrs. I’d rather starve!” For a moment the conversation hung upon that declaration. . 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. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection.
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