He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street. Wood's. "Yes; but what is good isn't always proper. 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. I wasn't taught that; I simply fell into it from contact. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can.
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