At last he could bear it no longer. They are the only happy women in the Orient. “Lucy! Where is my daughter? Where have you. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. “I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself.
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