. ‘Not here. The coconut plantation covered the west side. In fiction you make the Chinese secretive, criminal, and terrible—or comic. ” His father interjected. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied.
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