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. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. "Fifty now and fifty when I return. “How are you feeling?” She asked. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. After class his routine was unchanged. The movie droned on, the sounds becoming manageable except for the frequent high-pitched screams of young girls when a poltergeist manifestation would leap out of a shadow.
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