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While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. ” She surveyed this sentence for some time before going on. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Maybe others that I do not know about. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. “Heavens!” exclaimed Ann Veronica, with extraordinary passion.
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