Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. Was she interested in that young ass who was risking his bones over there in the city? They had come up on the same boat. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word.
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