Frank Kaslov, king of the gypsies of America, was a bachelor. He had no heart for any woman longer than an hour; none of the gypsy women could win him with the charms that sleep in satin skins and shiny eyes. And his mother, fearing that the royal line would perish, said to him, "It is time for you to find yourself a bride and leave off treating the woman question lightly."
"But, mother, where will I find one?" Frank Kaslov asked. "For surely, mother, you would not see...
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