She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. He remembered also, all at once, the very first words he had heard her speak: “I was not born to this. “Are you sick, Michelle? Maybe you should have stayed home. This isn't your island, child; it's the great world. They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. Never mind. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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