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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. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. Rather would I have gone with Leonardo—and he wished me to do so. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. Sebastian snorted, “If it isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black!” “Your house is host to the lowest forms of life, those without morals! I will no longer allow my children to live 210 in such a house. "Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower.
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