‘It was a good chance for a new life,’ Joan explained, venturing to face Melusine again, ‘and Martha took it. 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. She had worn a long skirt that morning, and a roomier sweater that was slightly easier to handle than Shari’s low cut numbers. "Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s.
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