Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. “My Mom was a good lady. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. ” The suitcase loomed in her memory, making its presence felt once again. “Let me help you,” he begged. The Oriental waterfronts were rank with the stuff.
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