Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Ah Cum said that it was customary to give the chair boys small money for rice.
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