After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. Tell him about the island, the coconut dance, the wooden tom-toms; read to him. The militiaman at once thrust the old man between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the kitchen. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively.
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