His mother used to live i' this village, just down yonder; but when her son took to bad ways, she went distracted,—and now she's i' Bedlam, I've heerd. There was a trader—a man who bought copra and pearls. The day comes when you shall regret how you have spoken to me. Why, is the question I would like answered. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. “Lift up one corner of the curtain for me. There were lines in her face that age had not put there.
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