Even the basest objects sold in the 24 roadside shops were beautiful in some way. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. After all, they’re history in the making. .
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