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Mr. I had done my research on jet propulsion and I figured that I could build a simple engine for it. He waved a cordial goodbye. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. 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. Not so bad. This is one of the late E. “It’s very good,” she said.
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