"Never heard of a sing-song girl; never heard of a geisha! Flower of the Lotus: the sing-song girl called her that. They’re in grad school and they both live in New York. ’ Melusine looked from his coarse red features to the pistol, and froze inside as she recognised his intention. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. For a time she brooded on the ideals and suggestions of the Socialists, on the vague intimations of an Endowment of Motherhood, of a complete relaxation of that intense individual dependence for women which is woven into the existing social order.
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