CHAPTER I. 1. I've combed HongKong. I can't give you my hand; but you may take it. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. . My agent is here, and he has brought his contract for me to sign. He is extremely old—forty at least—and he has a belly excessively fat. gutenberg. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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