There are sing-song girls in Hong-Kong and Shanghai who are famous and wealthy. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. Wood, sharply. And he who opposes me in it shall feel the weight of my hand. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh.
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