’ ‘I am a very English man,’ Gerald said. 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. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. They don’t now. " "Will you be taking a pole-chair?" "If that's the racket.
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