THE SIAMESE CAT
"So Giles Borkman is on his blooming little beam-ends," he continued. "That stone … the only perfect pigeon-blood I've ever seen; even badly cut, it was a fortune. Well, makee finish! The pockmarked coolie has it, I dare say, or the other Chinaman. Yes: that's where it's gone. They followed us down to the Straits, just as Ho Kong did; and if I could bribe the servants that evening, why so could they—and before I arrived."
He looked very white and old as he stood there, a tired giant, stroking by force of habit his bare chin.
"Not all beer and skittles, is it?" he inquired eying Scarlett as though out of a reverie. "I mean my sort of pidgin, you know. Now it's back to the East again. There's a Bibby to sail this morning, early. God knows what next … perhaps I'll makee finish myself, eh? Had some queer thoughts lately, lying on my
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