CHAPTER XIII. "The geisha and the sing-song girl are professional entertainers. “Buon Primomaggio. "What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. “There are two things to be done,” he said softly to himself. Daughters were in the air that day. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go.
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