And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night. 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. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. Doesn’t know where he is, thought the captain. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men.
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