That she had not bought one piece of linen subtly established in Ah Cum's mind the fact that she had no home, that the instinct was not there, or she would have made some purchase against the future. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. ’ A thought caught in her mind and she turned quickly to her old nurse. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side.
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