A quick flush stained her cheeks. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. 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. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him.
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