The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. “I have the right to be here. For the sort of love-making you think about. The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. .
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