She still could not muster the strength to leave. . Natives are queer. . Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. It wasn’t long ago that a girl went straight from the farm to her husband, just as soon as her period came and she could make babies. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother.
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