On the other side of a fairly thin wall she could hear water running in 
half a dozen sinks as young women performed their crepuscular ablutions. Nell 
was the only scripter staying in Madame Ping's dormitory; the others were 
performers and were just coming back from a long vigorous shift, rubbing 
liniment on their shoulders, sore from wielding paddles against clients' 
bottoms, or snorting up great nostril-loads of mites programmed to seek out 
their inflamed buttocks and help to repair damaged capillaries overnight. And 
of course, many more traditional activities were going on, such as douching, 
makeup removal, moisturizing, and the like. The girls went through these 
motions briskly, with the unselfconscious efficiency that the Chinese all 
seemed to share, discussing the day's events in the dry Shanghainese dialect. 
Nell had been living among these girls for a month and was just starting to 
pick up a few words. They all spoke English anyway.