"Austin will stare," thought Jack, "when he comes here in the morning. It’s—it’s a social difference. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait.
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