’ ‘Exactement. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. Apart from everything else, this meeting of ours is a breach of a good rule. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. His hug became an embrace.
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