It is useless to talk. 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. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned. "What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence.
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