There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Wished to see you. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. That's part of the bargain. But be patient, I am your fast friend. And it’s gorgeous!” “Glorious!” said Ann Veronica.
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