Your time isn't come yet. 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. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. “Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it.
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