Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. To—to find myself. 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. ‘Hilary is a darling. Sheppard.
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