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” Frenchmen, they are different. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. . Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. Sebastian looked up and stood. 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.
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