Behind the poet came Sir James Thornhill. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. " "I see.
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