The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him. ‘You cannot be always with me. When Mr. So was I, in fact.
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