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He had been quite right to sit down. 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. “I love your sister. ’ The questions that had long haunted her came out at last. But they were old enough to start remembering you as mother, and we cannot have that. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously.
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