“We have to be— modern. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. "No von," replied the Jew. His light brown hair was almost crew cut short. She looked at her flattened belly. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day.
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