"Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. She knew now that he never would. “Like a stab. Hastily acquainting him with the treasures he had unexpectedly obtained, Thames returned to the room to apprize Winifred of his good fortune. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word.
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