I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. Ennison had disappeared. And how much I owe you, too, dearest Winifred, for your kindness and attention. 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. ’ He nodded.
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