The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. It was, in a way, something of a joke to the doctor: psychology and physiognomy on an island which white folks did not visit more than three or four times a year, only then when they had to. ‘The place was full of barbers and military men. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered.
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