That would be an unkind twist of fate. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. It was, in a way, something of a joke to the doctor: psychology and physiognomy on an island which white folks did not visit more than three or four times a year, only then when they had to. ” She found it difficult to begin thinking, and indeed she was anything but clear what it was she had to think about. She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by. She made me over. . This was just what he needed. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features.
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