The Mongolian assented. The race are not cleanly or sweet-savored, but N N. fell upon his neck. He embraced him with one hand, and closed his nostrils with the other. Through him, he felt he clasped the close-fitting basque.
The next day was one of agony and suspense. Evening came, but no Mercy. N N. lit the charcoal. But, to compose his nerves, he closed his door and first walked mildly up and down Montgomery Street. When he returned, he found the faithful Mongolian on the steps.
—All lity!
These Chinese are not accurate in their pronunciation. They avoid the r, like the English nobleman.
N N. gasped for breath. He leaned heavily against the Chinaman.
—Then you have seen her, Ching Long?
—Yes. All lity. She cum. Top side of house.
The docile barbarian pointed up the stairs, and chuckled.
—She here—impossible! Ah, Heaven! do I dream?
—Yes. All lity,—top side of house. Good by, John.