During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. I can't concentrate on my work. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. It might be upset. I've sent for the priest. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her.
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