" "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly. He struck out from the shoulder, and the man measured his length upon the pavement. 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. Now I have done something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe.
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