"My wife and daughter, Sir," said the carpenter, introducing them to his guest. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles. “Is it your maid?” he asked. I almost wish we hadn't come.
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