Then suddenly the curtain would fall. Disperse in every direction. I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him. He was twenty-nine at the time, practically an old man. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. First-off, he had decided not to tell her what he had found at the bottom of that manila envelope. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts.
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