After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door. "Never heard of a sing-song girl; never heard of a geisha! Flower of the Lotus: the sing-song girl called her that.
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