And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion. It was most amusing. The veranda bamboo will be enough for me. And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. But—he was cleverer than any of you. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. With delicate touch he rescued all that was possible of them, and made a careful little parcel. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman.
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