‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. ‘Poor things. His two wives have been here. Shortly to be executed. ‘I do not understand you. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains.
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