In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. "One of you fly to the market," returned Jonathan; "another to the river; a third to the New Mint. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. After all, why should I care what strangers think?" Ruth asked with sudden heat. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously.
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