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"How shouldn't there be?" Manka started laughing. "I love the ones like you especially, such nice little fatties." "You love them? Eh? Why do you love them?" "Oh, I love them just so. You're nice, too." The German meditated for a few seconds, pensively sipping away at his beer.
The beauty of the Turkish women is still a matter of dispute. When beauty is an object of unlimited purchase, its frequency will be probably found a safe admission. But Turkish women occasionally unveil, and it is then generally discovered that the veil is one of their principal charms. They have even been described as merely good-humoured looking "fatties" a sufficiently humble panegyric.
Girls! Say, all the fifty-seven varieties was represented, tall ones, short ones, thin ones, plump ones, and plain fatties. There was aristocratic brunettes, and dimpled blondes, and every shade between. They ranged from fourteen up, and they sported all kinds of hair dressin', from double pleated braids to the latest thing in turban swirls.
"Now," said Sam, "there's what I call visitors' albums like the one that Phil Leary's nine fatties started when they got their brick house and their swelled heads, so every one that came in could write their names an' something about 'this happy, happy, ne'er-to-be-forgotten visit' them as could write. Reckon that's where our visitors get the start, for all of ours kin write that has feet."
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