She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. . She lived, he noted, very carelessly. ’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice. She declined and finished with a few of her favorite excerpts from Scheherazade.
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