’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. . And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. It was, in a way, something of a joke to the doctor: psychology and physiognomy on an island which white folks did not visit more than three or four times a year, only then when they had to.
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