One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. ” She shook her head. One would say she could try to —to prevent that her daughter will go to the convent. I waited for her at the back. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. His last actions were futile. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered.
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