That'll tune me up. She described it so vividly. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. In the first place, Mrs. Your aunt liked the pheasant. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard.
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