She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance.
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This video was uploaded to ineel.net on 19-07-2024 04:22:40
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