She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. “What a hideous repertoire! If you are in earnest about wanting to earn money, why on earth don’t you accept an engagement here?” “An engagement?” she queried. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. My feelings overpower me.
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