But it is the truth. I’ll be ready in a moment. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. “Never was such an age of transition. Before a year has expired, you will share the same fate. You must come and tell me all about it, although I am not sure whether we shall forgive you for not having written to any of us.
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