” She dropped back into a crouching attitude and began to weep. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. 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. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination.
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