In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. ‘In fact, I’ve never met anyone who goaded me to so much violence.
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