The Chinese Parrot (Charlie Chan Detective Series) — page 45: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

——— . oo on "It is too much to say that I do not approve," Kee Lim returned. "But I do not quite understand. The foreign devil police—what has a Chinese in common with them?” Charlie smiled. "There are times, honorable cousin," he admitted, "when I do not quite understand myself." The reed curtains at the rear parted, and a girl came into the room. Her eyes were dark and bright; her face pretty as a doll's. Tonight, in deference to the holiday, she wore the silken trousers and embroidered jacket of her people, but her hair was bobbed and her walk, her gestures, her whole manner all too obviously copied from her American sisters. She carried a tray piled high with New Year delicacies. "My daughter, Rose," Kee Lim announced. "Behold, our famous cousin from Hawaii." He turned to Charlie then. "She, too, would be an American, insolent as the daughters of the foolish white men." The girl laughed. "Why not? I was born here. I went to American grammar schools. And now I work American fashion." "Work?" repeated Charlie, with interest. "The Classics of Girlhood are forgotten," explained Kee Lim. "All day she sits in the Chinatown telephone exchange, shamelessly talking to a wall of teakwood that flashes red and yellow eyes." 49 comiicboeoe S CO