Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. I was orphaned a long time ago. ‘After all the threats you’ve made, that is hardly fair. Most people, every one I know else, seem to have mated with foreigners and to talk uneasily in unfamiliar tongues, to be afraid of the knowledge the other one has, of the other one’s perpetual misjudgment and misunderstandings.
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