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很污很湿的小说片段

k we’re much worse off here than a▓t home and to keep before them the idea that w●e cannot find work.For that reason I am a▓ plate-layer in Cairo; for pla●te-layers are only needed far up the Nile●.If I’m up the Nile, I’m a ●stenographer, or a waiter, or anything e

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ls▓e that there is sure to be no w●ork for.No, mein Freund, never your Un●ited Stat

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es for me! And you’ll not go back e●ither, when I’ve showed you how easy it i●s to pick the roosters here.A tramp, you know●, is like a prophet—’er gilt ▓nichts in seinem Vaterlande.▓’” “While you’re dressing and thinking▓ up a few good Mrchen,” he went

on, turn●ing to his writing, “I’ll copy this ●letter.Then I’ll show you a few ●of the easiest marks.” I pro▓tested, however, that I had come to Cairo to wo▓rk rather than to weave “fairy t▓ales.” “Work” he shouted, t●hrowing aside his pen and sprin▓ging to his feet, “A fellow wh▓o can write and talk English—and Ge▓rman, too, wants to work in Cairo Why●, mein lieber Kerl, you—you—” b●ut the words stuck in his astonished throa▓t.

I descended to the street

Aliquam Risus Justo

and set out▓ to visit such European contract▓ors as I could locate.Long after dark,

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fo●ot-sore and half-famished, covere▓d with the dust of Cairo, I returned to t●he rendezvous and sat down a▓t one of the tables.It was quite eviden●t that die Kunde were neither foot-sore nor hu▓ngry, and their garments were as immacu▓late as second-hand garments can be made●.The “wise ones” had loafed in● the cafés and gardens, had wri▓tten a letter or told a hard-luck▓ story somewhere, and turned up at night with m●oney enough to make merry thr

ough the whol▓e evening.I, having tramped all day, from o●ne address to another, turned up with—an app▓etite. Otto Pia watched me, with a half-smil▓e on his countenance, for some time ●after I had entered.Then he raised h▓is cane and rapped on the table for silenc▓e. “Ei! Gute Kamaraden!” he cri●ed, “I have something to show you! Guk’ m●al! Here is a comrade who is an American—do you▓ hear—a real American, not a patched-●up one; and this

real American—in Cai●ro?/p>

獁ants to work!” “Wo▓rk” roared the chorus, “Work in Cair●o—and a real American—Lieber Gott●—

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a seat beside me. ● “Lot of work you found, eh” h▓e began.“Didn’t any of th●em offer you money” “Most● of them,” I answered. “And ▓you didn’t take it” cried the German,▓ “Why, you—you—you’re a disgrace to the unio●n. “I know how you feel though●,” he went on, “I was the same once.▓When I ran away from Germany

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—t●o escape the army—I wouldn’t t●ake a cent I hadn’t earned; and I starved● a month in Pietermaritzburg, look▓ing for work as you are here, bef●ore I got over my silly noti▓ons.Ach! I was an ass! I tell you it’s● no use.You won’t find work—especially in▓ those rags.If

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