CHAPTER VIII. Mr. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. His sister followed. “No!” she exclaimed. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. .
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