” “She invited me to dinner anyway. When she looked into their eyes, her despair put her beyond tears. But he wrote on. Taking the light, they then proceeded along the passage. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. I don’t know anyone. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. I have two Malay clerks in the store; but I'm obliged to have a white man to watch over them, or they'd clean me out.
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