And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. But his daughter might well have a claim. Marina gently passed the swaddled infant to his mother, who sat down on the bed proudly to nurse the baby, extracting a fat breast from her heavy gown.
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