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. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty. It was not that the servants could not, they simply preferred to. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. I married—I married a woman whom I still think one of the most beautiful persons in the world.
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