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. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. 155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. She was the first to recover herself. We mustn’t make it so.
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