John stared palely. “You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?” he asked, without rising to his feet. “There have been other times,” he said a little sadly. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. He frowned. 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. Um. ’ ‘Quite right, Gerald,’ approved Lucilla. E. " "That's easily said. "If I spoke to him, my interest might be misinterpreted. ’ ‘You didn’t care.
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