She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. I’ll make any reasonable arrangement you like. I do not believe that you will marry David Courtlaw. She opened her eyes. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts.
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