’ She gestured at his hand, on which Roding’s makeshift bandage had been replaced by a more efficient one. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. The place was crowded, and the people about her were almost equally made up of very goodlooking and enthusiastic young people and a great variety of Goopes-like types. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. "Don't speak ill of him behind his back, father," interposed Thames. The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating.
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