He and her father shook hands manfully. 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. ’ ‘You, perhaps?’ she flung at him furiously, stepping out from behind the desk. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told.
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