Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. 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. Do not believe it, Madam. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout.
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