“It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. 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. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. In some cases they were ground almost to powder; in others, driven deeply into the earth, as if discharged from a piece of ordnance.
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