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THE SIAMESE CAT
"Good-moh? ning-seh," chanted Ho Kong, "I hop you? ah velly well. You wan tehee buy nice golo-smit culio, I can? show you, seh."
The slant, thick-lidded eyes watched every movement, as Scarlett peered along the cases. In one corner lay a silver bracelet, which, but for having no bells, was the mate to Borkman's gift.
"How much is this? S'pose you put bells on, how much?" Owen looked squarely into the clerk's eyes. They met his with a strange gleam, but not a curve changed in the sallow, infant face.
"Fiftee tical, he velly nice."
"This chap does savee," thought Owen. "Fifty—say that means twenty: the cat was forty. Do men kill each other over sixty ticals?" Aloud he said—"Too much. What price this silver casket?"
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