Get it off your soul. ” Suppose she were to add, “I am going away!” “I’m glad to hear you say it,” said Mr. His room was last at the end of one winding corner. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. 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. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days.
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