“Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense.
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