The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. I did not know what God had in mind then. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. “I shall never be able to thank you.
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