“I don’t think you can have heard me, Vee,” he said, with intensely controlled fury. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. Niente. I get the feeling that you are special, so alone, so beautiful that I must get to the bottom of you if it takes my whole life. It was, in a way, something of a joke to the doctor: psychology and physiognomy on an island which white folks did not visit more than three or four times a year, only then when they had to.
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