There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. "No; it's only a fresh gale," Ben returned: "hark! now it comes. Gerald’s temper flared. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs.
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