Presently he resumed: “I believe I must be in love. Pull over there. I have two Malay clerks in the store; but I'm obliged to have a white man to watch over them, or they'd clean me out. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “The Widgetts,” she said. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers.
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