She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. "My enemy," replied her son. Rows of roasted duck, brilliantly varnished; luscious vegetables, which she had been warned against; baskets of melon seed and water-chestnuts; men working in teak and blackwood; fan makers and jade cutters; eggs preserved in what appeared to her as petrified muck; bird's nests and shark fins. Unfortunately, I have little detail of the circumstances which surrounded the birth of the girl, and her subsequent removal to France. " Neither man spoke.
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