He often wanted only to drive with her in the car, both of them staring at the scenery in silence for hours. They had a universe to talk about—two universes. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. ” “Until some one takes pity on me and marries me?” He raised his eyebrows in mild appeal. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. “Stuffy these trees make the Avenue,” said Mr. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. " "Depend upon it, Sir. “I am going to ignore it. Wanting his coat, when he must have known that the pockets were empty! But the effort to talk had cost him something. And so, here we are, right back from where we started. .
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