She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. Mr. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. Another long interval elapsed. He laughed. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. . I'll go alone. My nerves are shaken.
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