Totally disregarding the pain, he picked up the nail, and reserved it for future use. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. He donned his winter coat. 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. The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly.
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