” “I’ll pay you if I have to work at shirt-making at threepence an hour. Go to your sister, and do not quit her till all is over. ” “You know,” he said with some hesitation, “that your sister is singing. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. 1 through 1.
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