And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. "Never heard of a sing-song girl; never heard of a geisha! Flower of the Lotus: the sing-song girl called her that. Sulphurous poisons assaulted her nostrils as she threw the stone to one side of its resting place. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. ’ She spread her hands.
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