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. " "Do you suppose he knew?" "He? Oh, you mean Mr. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying.
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