“John?” He turned around in the recliner. Know that I love you, that I will always love you. The drunken beachcombers; the one-sided education; the utter loneliness of a white child without playfellows, human or animal, without fairy stories, who for days was left alone while the father visited neighbouring islands, these pictures sank far below their actual importance. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand.
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