She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. The fever came. But the five per cent. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 19-09-2024 01:06:42
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