She says that everyone in the house makes too much noise, my Dad snores, and that when the house is empty, the traffic noise is nearly deafening. “Then I will do what I can,” Anna promised. 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. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way.
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