The business locality—like the place where this Palace Hotel takes its seat—does not afford a stomachful of respectable air.
I preferred some hospitable boarding house in a quiet street, where I might even step up and down in nude feet. I wished to occupy a chamber where the morning sun could steal in and shake my sleepy little head with golden fingers as my beloved mama might do.
We will move to the “high-toned” boarding house of Mrs. Willis this afternoon.
Her house is placed on the high hill of California Street.
I am grateful there is no car quaking along there.
My uncle says I shall have a whole lot of millionaires for neighbours.
California must be one dignified street.
The Chinese colony is close at hand from Mrs. Willis’,—the exotic exposition brilliant with green and yellow colour. The incense surges. So cute is the sparrow-eyed Asiatic girl—such a “karako”—with a small cue on only one side of the head. Dear Oriental town!
Good luck, I pray, my Palace Hotel!
Sayonara, my graceful butlers!