No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. There were white men with families, a fine mission-house, and a club-house for cards and billiards. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired.
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