"Heaven help us!" he exclaimed; "we were mad to neglect the old sailor's advice. They laughed and talked and stared about them. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously.
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