The mummies were tossed into the collection. The chain, which had been partially cut through, snapped near the staple. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. 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. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. She was suddenly grave. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Or mad, just as the captain had said so many times. “DEAR MR.
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