She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. He thanked God for this talent of his. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly.
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