She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. " "But, Lord, man!—don't you ever get lonesome?" "Don't you?" "I'm too busy. “Oh, John, please!” “You are already leaving me. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. ‘That I do not yet know.
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