It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. Then the distant relationship to Miss Stanley gave them a slight but pleasant sense of proprietorship in the girl. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. 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.
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