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. Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood. A blow from the iron bar instantly stretched the ruffian on the floor. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard.
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