I don’t know. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. 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. He was certain that those lips of hers had never known the natural and pardonable simper of youth.
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