It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. “Women know these things by instinct,” she answered. I have sinned deeply; but I have been sorely tried. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages.
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