Hark! The Rattle!
Joel Townsley Rogers
We sat in the Purple Lily—Tain Dirk, that far too handsome young man, with me.
I drank coffee; Tain Dirk drank liquor—secretly and alone. The night was drenched with sweating summer heat, but I felt cold as ice. Presently we went up to the Palm Grove Roof, where Bimi Tal was to dance.
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