The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. "The Dutchman was right, after all. “While that lamb was about every man of any spirit was regarded as a dangerous wolf. I'll bet you've been in Hong-Kong these two weeks already, and never a line to me. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them.
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