The kindly American consul-general had himself taken her to the bank, where her banknotes had been exchanged for a letter of credit, and had thoroughly advised her. "I am twenty," said the girl. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. It was a different world. I've a question to ask him. He has a way of sitting on people. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. . ’ She paused, struggling for the word. We thought of starting in half an hour’s time, and trying for a theatre somewhere on the way. \" 49 She greeted him as he scanned her from head to toe, absorbing the lines of her figure as he was doing systematically with every other female in the parking lot.
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