The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. " She departed reluctantly. “The unaccountable thing is that I wouldn’t go home to please her. Pragmar probably knew Mr. "And I," muttered Jack. 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. She acted as her mother had taught her to. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. It’s these damned novels. “Our ways happened to lie together.
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