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. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it. I hate what I have to do to survive. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice.
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