’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. “Is that plain?” she asked. THAMES DARRELL. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. The Oriental accepts my medicines kowtowing, and when my back is turned, chucks the stuff out of the window and burns joss-sticks.
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