CHAPTER II. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. Ruth made a little gesture, of infinite pity; and this was quickly seized upon by the slant-eyed Chinese girl. It did affect the business that they all argued badly and were egotistical in their manners and inconsistent in their phrases.
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